


To Live

by jambajunkie



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jambajunkie/pseuds/jambajunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Kaidonovskys had survived? Sasha and Aleksis learn how to live again in the aftermath of the war - together. This is the story of their happily ever after. Shameless fix-it fic. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The first time Sasha awakens, she is alone.

She finds herself clinging to a piece of Cherno Alpha, floating amongst a sea of rubble. The water is laced with the unmistakable blue blood of a kaiju.  With a slow, halting right hand, she pries her half-crushed helmet off carefully, grimacing at the pain lancing through her arm and side.  Luckily, the armor on her body has kept most of her skin safe from the corrosive kaiju blue.  The worst is where her skin was exposed: there is burning around her neck, and on her chin.  She gingerly shifts and bends her right arm – broken – and resettles upon Cherno’s floating leg plate, using it as a makeshift raft.

Her left side is numb.  She tries to flex her fingers and they do not respond. It’s no matter; she’s right-handed, and Aleksis is always the left anyway –

 _Lyosha._ Sasha scans her surroundings for her husband.  Her chest tightens when she sees nothing, but the kaiju blue is stinging her eyes and she cannot keep them open for long.  She calls out for him once, twice, three times.  Nothing but the sound of surf answers her.

Aleksis is alive.  She is sure of it.  They had gone down as one, minds tightly entwined – _stay with me, Sashenka – we go together –_ clinging to each other as metal and fire and the waters of death swirled and combusted all around them.  For as long as it had mattered, they had been one; if they were to die, they would go together.  So Sasha’s faith is ironclad that he would not leave her behind.  She can still feel him in her mind – a ghost of his steady, calming presence left over from the Drift.  Perhaps he is asleep, but he is there, so he must be alive.

She comforts herself with that as she surrenders to exhaustion, dreaming of Aleksis in wistful fragments.

 

The second time Sasha awakens, it is to the sound of foghorns.

She opens her eyes, wincing at the stinging, which still has not abated. Her vision is blurry but she makes out a half-ring of boats.  There are men waving their hands and shouting.  There’s one short, bespectacled figure that is irritatingly familiar to her –

“Lieutenant!  Lieutenant Kaidonovsky! Oh my god, you’re actually alive!”

That shrill, hysterical voice – it is Dr. Newton Geiszler, the short scientist, the kaiju groupie.  Sasha has never liked him, especially after the time she had seen him with shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing that he’d desecrated his skin with sickeningly glorified tattoos of their enemies.  Right now he’s over-excited, bouncing up and down at the side of the boat, talking about how he’d won his bet with Hermann, that he _knew_ the Russians were way too tough and scary to just drown in the Hong Kong Bay, nuclear explosion be damned.  

Thankfully, the others on the boat have already moved, pumping acid neutralizers into the water as they make their way out towards her in bulky dry suits. Wordlessly, she accepts their help as they push her makeshift raft up towards the ladder at the back of the boat, and she staggers up, one-handed, step by step. Her legs are shaking more than she will admit, so upon clearing the ladder she sinks down onto the deck, her armor clanking upon impact with the floor.  Her left arm still lies inert, useless.

Dr. Geiszler approaches her, shouting about how he can’t believe it, hours of exposure to kaiju blue and the explosion and Cherno Alpha destroyed and what amazing heroes and –

She cuts him off with a look.  He gulps.

“Have you found my husband?”

“No, not yet!” he squeaks. “We’re looking!”

Behind him, a man has pulled up the fragment of Cherno Alpha that she has been drifting on for who knows how long, and they are gesturing to it excitedly and conversing in rapid-fire Mandarin.  She does not know much of the language, but enough to realize that this is not a PPDC rescue boat but a scavenger crew.

“How is it that you have joined the likes of these scavengers, _doctor?”_ Sasha sneers at Geiszler. “With the world at an end, you could not find something better to do?”

“Hey, I’m on behalf of PPDC here! We still need kaiju parts to study!” Newt exclaims in an automatic defense, before he realizes that she doesn’t _know_.  With that his excitement bubbles up again. “The world isn’t ending!  We won! Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka - they destroyed the breach! We’re all going to live!”

Geiszler continues, but Sasha does not hear him.  They’ve won.  The war is over.

She closes her eyes.  She does not know the right way to feel; all she feels is relieved. Yes.  That’s it.  Relieved – and bewildered. She and Aleksis had never planned for the end of the war; they had expected to die as they had lived – fighting – but they’d never imagined that there was another side, and that they could possibly come out on that side alive.

 _Lyosha,_ she thinks. _Did you hear it? We won._ He is still there in her head, she thinks – but is that her imagination, or is he fading a little?

Her eyes narrow.  Her job is unfinished.  She must find Aleksis, and he must be alive.  There is no meaning in a future without him.

 

The scavengers are kind to her, and a little afraid.  She has a reputation, after all, the Russian warrior woman who’d taken down six kaiju (the last two don’t count; they lost that battle) alongside her looming, taciturn mate.  They are, however, excited to have hauled up one of the PPDC’s heroes, and they hope for some kind of reward, or at least some coverage in the media.  Aside from that unsurprisingly opportunistic attitude, they are kind, for pirates – they give up their cabin to her, and she’s immediately put on a cot, and someone comes with medical supplies to treat the acid burns and to set her broken right arm.  With those discomforts behind her, Sasha is beginning to take note of other injuries – wrenched knees and sprained ankles and bruised ribs as well, not to mention a patchwork of bloody lacerations showing clear signs of infection.  But the scavengers do their best, with bottles of hydrogen peroxide and vinegar and a dirt-tasting herbal concoction that they insist she drink.  When it’s over Sasha smells pungently of Chinese herbs.

The man acting as her nurse slips out, and from the conversation outside the cabin, Sasha makes out Dr. Geiszler’s orders to leave the scary Russian lady pilot alone, and to let her rest.  Sasha closes her eyes and concentrates again on the feeling – that little wisp still remaining of Aleksis that she knows is still there, a remnant, a ghost of their Drift.  Her left arm is twitching, now, when she wills it to move.

The door creaks and Sasha starts, snarling at being disturbed.  The intruder jumps, with a soft yelp, then apologies in a small voice, in Mandarin.  It’s a teenage Chinese girl of perhaps 15, still in pigtails – perhaps a daughter of one of the scavengers.  Sasha watches her evenly as the girl visibly gathers her courage and approaches with a respectful bow. “Sah-sha Kai-doh-no-fu-su-kee,” she attempts valiantly. 

Sasha nods. 

The girl launches into a bubbly diatribe that Sasha cannot follow, all hope and longing centered on one phrase that she repeats over and over again – “Ku-rim-son Tai-fun”.  It’s the Wei triplets that she’s asking for.  In the corner of the room, above the third-level bunk covered in Hello Kitty blankets, Sasha notices a poster of the three identical men, in wife beaters and sweats, posing with a basketball at the giant red feet of their Jaeger.

She doesn’t know if the Wei Tang Clan survived. She certainly has not seen them, although fragments of their Jaeger had surfaced in the bay. Sasha shakes her head, not unkindly, and the girl’s face falls.  The girl has just turned away when Sasha reaches out to hold her in place.  The girl snaps around, blinking in surprise, gaze moving to nervously study Sasha’s firm grip on her arm: the slender, unyielding fingers, the blood-red nails, and the marks left by ten burning rings.

“Aleksis,” Sasha enunciates clearly. “My husband.”

There is a moment of puzzlement, but the girl straightens, suddenly, as if in understanding, and nods.

“Find him.”

 

At Sasha’s insistence they comb the waters for several more hours, but as night falls they retire to shore, the boat laden with Jaeger parts and one angry Jaeger pilot. Dr. Geiszler insists on taking her back to the Shatterdome despite her loud and vehement protests.  Back at the Shatterdome, she is in no mood to tolerate the welcoming cheers of the crew, telling them that there is nothing worth celebrating until they find Aleksis, and they better get a helicopter out there _now_ or else.  The crowd rapidly scatters after that, and somehow she finds herself rushed to medical for examinations.

The doctors irritate her, as they always have.  They are worried about everything; they are muttering about internal bleeding (she probably had some, but what could she do about it while floating on the water?) and infection (“Too late,” Sasha mutters, eyeing the black-and-blue crusted gashes on her right shoulder) and post-traumatic stress disorder too (Sasha snarls that she’ll be just _fine_ once her husband is here).  What worries them most is her unresponsive left arm, and they rush around postulating about the side effects of neural handshakes torn apart prematurely – especially the Kaidonovskys, who had had the strongest, most unassailable connection of all.

Sasha refuses to allow them to scan her brain. She has other things to worry about. That feeling of Aleksis in her mind has gotten smaller still, so much that she can’t sense him anymore at times – and worse, she does not know if it is because of the fading of the Drift hangover, or if Aleksis is bleeding out somewhere in the ocean, slowly losing his life.

 

After the examination, she returns to their room, only to find that it’s been half-cleaned out already, their clothing folded and bedsheets missing. She finds Herc Hansen there putting back their belongings. Herc starts at the sight of her, a tube of lipstick in his hands, frozen halfway to the shelf. He clears his throat. “I was returning your personal effects,” he says, needlessly.  “We all thought…”

Herc is a good, brave man, but he is not talented with words sometimes, Sasha knows.  He has never been, or else he might have rescued the travesty of a relationship he had had with his now-deceased son. So Sasha speaks, bluntly as always.

“I am sorry, that I am the wrong Ranger to come back from the dead.”

Herc doesn’t say anything in direct response, but from the look on his face, he understands that Sasha is telling the truth, and not only for his sake - that there is nothing for Sasha in life without Aleksis. Sasha takes a seat near Herc on the mattress, staring blankly at the large armchair in the corner. It is a drab, faded gray, but it is oversized, the only one they could find that was comfortable for her husband. He’d spent hours there reading, and in the Drift the details of Anna Karenina or Great Expectations would occasionally trickle down into their connection.

Herc is looking down at his hands – so small compared to Aleksis – and Sasha waits for what he has to say. In the silence of his hesitation, she hears the rhythmic clinking of metal tags. Max the bulldog waddles in, wandering boldly up to Sasha and putting his front paws on her knees.

Sasha studies Max’s wrinkled face, pointed up at her with an expression of adoration. She wonders if the dog is remembering the numerous instances where she had fed him sausage drenched in vodka from a small bowl. Max is the most absurd kind of dog she’s ever seen.  In Russia dogs were large and noble and brave, bred to hunt and guard.  She knows Max is noble and loyal, but the dog spends most of his days trailing people around the Shatterdome, slobbering on their pants while begging for attention or food.  Which he is doing now. Sasha obliges him, playing with the bulldog’s soft ears and scratching under his collar. Max pants in gratitude, revealing a comically long pink tongue lolling out of a bulldog grin.

Beside them, Herc stands.  There are undoubtedly things that he needs to tell her: her place as a figurehead in a new world to be rebuilt; the role of the Shatterdome and what they’d do with no Jaegers and no kaiju; but neither of them are ready.  So Herc says the only thing that Sasha needs to hear.

“We’ll find him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sasha finds herself full of envy in the days that follow.  She envies Raleigh Becket and Mako Mori for coming out of their ordeal whole, when she is but a half.  She envies the technicians and crews, for their ability to bask in their victorious aftermath while she remains in stasis.  She envies just about every man and woman she sees for having two functioning arms, instead of one useless and one broken, because if she had two arms she could steal a PPDC helicopter and pilot it over the waters.  And most of all, as she stands outside the Shatterdome overlooking the blood-blue bay, she envies the birds for their wings, because if she had wings nothing would hold her back from finding her husband.

Envy sours quickly into hate, and she is a hissing, snarling presence in the Shatterdome, as much wounded wolf as woman.  Long ago, after a particularly brutal kaiju battle, some misguided PPDC analyst had concluded that Aleksis had “issues with aggression” that made him a “concern on the battlefield”. Somehow that language had made it into Aleksis’ permanent file, and when they’d read the report they had laughed for a good five minutes straight.  The analyst had clearly made an assumption based solely on Aleksis’ size, because in fact the aggressor wasn’t usually Aleksis; it was nearly always _Sasha_. Not that Aleksis wasn’t deadly on his own – he used his sheer bulk and strength to his advantage in the Kwoon, and had garnered quite a reputation as a result.  But linked together with Sasha and housed within the heart of their colossal Jaeger, Aleksis had provided Sasha with the balance and steadiness she needed.  Because Sasha drew all her spirit and power from pure, white-hot _fury_.

Now, without Aleksis at her side, Sasha dissolves into a creature of anger, with no outlet. She snaps at the doctors, both for telling her that she is badly wounded, and for not repairing her wounds more quickly.  She ignores Raleigh Becket entirely, pretending not to hear his repeated invitations to sit with him and Mako during meals. To her credit, she tolerates Mako, because she’d taught the brave little girl how to color her hair years ago, and Mako _understands_ because for a minute she’d gone through the same experience. Herc keeps his distance, sending the occasional article or document for her to peruse when she was ready, but the papers and files accumulate in a space she has no wish to explore yet.

Sasha waits because she has no choice, but she’s terrible at waiting.

And then one day she wakes up, disoriented both from pain medication and dreams of drowning in a maelstrom of ice and fire. She stretches out her arms, and realizes with a start that her left arm is working again. And then, heart pounding, she reaches for that ghost of her husband in her head and he’s no longer there.

 

Later that day she’s managed to escape the eyes of her doctors, although not without being subjected to even more ludicrous and offensive theories.  She is insulted when she discovers that they’ve had her on close watch all along, and that they were waiting for her to break, sooner or later.  They’ve written up notes, made charts, and suggested that perhaps Drifting too closely, too often, had had negative effects in the long run.  _Sasha Kaidonovsky may have lost her individual identity_ , they’d posited.  _Without her husband, she cannot achieve the mental equilibrium to function independently. This could be a long-term side effect of overdependence on the Drift._

She thinks that they’re crazy, and perhaps all single, because at a fundamental level, Drift or no Drift, she just wants her husband back.

It is afternoon, bordering on evening, and she’s walking along the shattered docks that once comprised a thriving port.  Warehouses that once held everything from toys, to clothing, to food, now stand empty.  Much of the area had been demolished during Gipsy Danger’s battle with the kaiju Leatherback – Cherno Alpha’s murderer – and whatever was left now lies in toxic mire thanks to the kaiju blood polluting the waters.  The section is off-limits to the general public, but no one says no to Lieutenant S. Kaidonovsky, kaiju-slaying hero, and the one guard who does so receives a smashed nose for his trouble. He goes wailing off to his superiors and Sasha coolly slips by.

She moves along the docks to where they end, jaggedly and abruptly, downed planks still submerged in the water and rotting from the acidity.  She sits, not a foot from the edge, and stares out along the horizon, searching for floating objects in the water.  Sometimes a Jaeger part will emerge from the depths; they’d recovered two of Crimson Typhoon’s damaged escape pods yesterday, but no Wei triplets, to the disappointment of many in China.  Cherno Alpha had had no escape pods; she and Aleksis had been truly one with the great metal beast, an indivisible part of its physical heart.  Leatherback had crushed that cockpit, yes – but Cherno’s heart had shielded at least one of its pilots from the great explosion at its end.

Today the water is still and smooth, and gulls hover above the bay, calling to each other.  She’d overheard a silly American saying the other day from a crewman, that a _little bird told me_ something that was meant to be a secret.  Here, alone and desperate, Sasha imagines a gull spotting the large, bulky body of her husband, with his craggy, beloved face, and flying to tell her of the sight.  He would be alright, in one piece – perhaps still asleep, to spare him the pain of surviving – and alive.

She remains on the dock as afternoon turns to evening. There is nothing for her back at the Shatterdome but unpleasant examinations; everything that might matter to her will come from the sea. When evening has faded away into night, a voice in the distance calling her name interrupts her.  She turns to see a small, familiar figure clambering over the docks toward her.  It’s Mako Mori, waving a phone and she’s shouting that it’s Herc Hansen; it’s that Chinese scavenger girl, and they have found Aleksis, and he is alive.

 

 _It’s not good,_ they tell her. 

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Sasha counters.  _I have him back now.  We move forward from here._ Besides, she’s seen him at his worst: bloodied and broken and not a little deranged after over 18 hours mind-melded together, and emerging with no idea whether he was Aleksis or Sasha.  She’s seen him sweat-drenched, vomiting, nose-bleeding, blackened-eyed – and she’s seen all the bloody scenes of his youth and past, tasting the bitter scarlet tang of blood through his mouth over and over again in the Drift.

So it is alright, she tells herself as she takes in his battered form.  They will recover from this, as they have, again and again. She runs gentle fingers over his face, touches the shorn ends of his hair and the fuzzy darkness of his beard.  “You need a shave, Lyosha,” she mutters.  His hands are so very cold; she lifts them carefully to her face to warm them.  His left side is a mess, like her right.  But the worst is his left leg, which had been crushed in a blisteringly hot mess of metal and wire. The purpling mass of peeled skin and blisters had then been exposed to kaiju blue – for days.  The strong, muscled calf is now blue-black with festering blisters – all infected.

The doctors discuss amputating.  Sasha accuses them of laziness and refuses.  _It will be a long recovery,_ they say.

 _So what?_ Sasha replies. _No kaiju left to fight. What have we better to do?_

Of course, they move the two patients into the same room, and reunited, they heal together. The doctors mutter among themselves that Sasha is an infinitely better patient – “1000% better!” agrees a nurse – with her husband at her side, even if that husband is unconscious.

They do not know when Aleksis will wake up.  Sasha is impatient as always, but also fearful of some wrenching calamity.  As she sits by his bedside she cannot help but run the possibilities through her mind: perhaps he would wake up and not remember her.  Perhaps they would have to amputate the leg after all. 

She sneaks in a small stereo and plays Ukrainian hard house for him, very softly, while he sleeps.

 

It takes him a whole week, but he finally wakes up in the middle of the night.  Sasha has wheeled their hospital beds together and is curled up next to him, dozing.  One of her hands rests on his uninjured shoulder. Aleksis comes to through a haze of soreness, and he cannot move much but for small, quiet actions – the twitching of a finger, the turning of his neck, a grimace to exercise long-unused facial muscles – and Sasha stirs, and opens her eyes to see him watching her.

“Sashenka,” he rasps, through the grit in his throat. Aleksis has never been a man of many words, but she knows what he is thinking because she has Drifted with him and married him and they are two halves of a whole. And Aleksandra Kaidonovskaya never cries, but to her mortification a tear escapes her now, leaving a shining and moist trail down the side of her face before sinking into the coverlet, because she can see in her husband’s face that he thinks he’s been given the most precious gift possible.

With a watery voice, Sasha teases him. “Lazy sleeping bear. Do you know how long you’ve kept me waiting?”

He’s still too tired and groggy from the drugs to answer her in any other word but her name, but one of his large hands slowly moves to caress her cheek, wiping away the stray tear track, before tracing the livid burn scars on her chin. The other – his injured left – remains still.  Sasha closes her eyes, fighting back the high stinging sensation in her nose as she leans forward to brush her lips against her husband’s.

He mutters something in a concerned tone and Sasha’s brow furrows.  He tries again. “Lipstick.”  She laughs – of all things, he’s concerned that she’s missing her warpaint.

“The war is over, husband. And we won,” she says, stroking his hair.  The darker roots are beginning to show under the bleached blonde lengths.  Aleksis’ eyes are beginning to flutter closed again, but he stubbornly maintains his grip on her hand.  She raises his hand to her lips, kissing the reddened swathes where he once wore ten rings.  It is a long time before he relaxes enough for his hold to slacken, and even longer still before Sasha tires of watching his sleeping face and lies down beside him to finally rest.

Now, their lives could begin again.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes a significant amount of pain medicine to affect a man of Aleksis’ size; as a result, he is groggy for days.  Sasha stays with him, tending to his spoken and unspoken needs as best as she is able.  He needs to rest, but he is stubbornly determined to stay awake, muttering that he had slept for long enough already, and more than once she threatens to knock him out if he won’t just _relax_.

Despite the physical discomforts they both face in their recovery, and despite the annoyances of being hospitalized, Sasha finds that she is content, if a little restless.  It is the first time in years that the kaiju threat has not hung over them, and the first time in their marriage that they have each other to themselves.  Now, with the whole world before them, they are almost unsure what to do. The preoccupations of their time as Rangers are no longer valid; they cannot train and they no longer fight.

What they do instead is dream and plan. They begin making lists together of the things that they had always wanted to do.  They call upon their intimate knowledge of each other from their long hours in the Drift, each voicing the fancies that the other does not speak aloud.  Hunting down ingredients around Hong Kong to wrap their own _pelmeni_ because they’d tolerated the tasteless Shatterdome canteen slop for eight months too long. Going to an Atlantic beach, unsullied by kaiju, romping in the waves, and building a replica of the Kremlin out of sand.  Attending a show at the Paris Opera, and perhaps sneaking off to search for hidden tunnels there (a wish she’d glimpsed in Aleksis’ mind once after he’d finished _The Phantom of the Opera)._ Writing a memoir. Learning to paint.

Slowly their dreams grow bigger. A large, blue-eyed Siberian Husky – no, Sasha corrects, _two_ Huskies.  A roomy house in the snowy woods with a fireplace and a surround-sound speaker system. 

They leave their greatest and most precious wish unspoken, though they have each seen it in each other’s hearts.  They do not yet know what being pilots of a Mark I Jaeger might have taken from them physiologically – and there is more healing to endure before they are ready for that knowledge.

In the meantime, at Sasha’s urging, the fool doctors pull it together and are able to save Aleksis’ leg, although they warn that the recovery period will necessitate that the large man avoid putting weight on the injury for quite some time.  So Aleksis requires a wheelchair.  Finding one that fits him is a feat in and of itself, but Sasha slips out to make a phone call, and the next day it appears at the Shatterdome entrance along with a generous shipment of vodka.  When Herc dryly inquires about the kaiju-sized hangover the next day, Sasha shrugs it off, managing to look nonchalant while keeping her eyes well shielded from the morning light.  “Worth it. It reminds you that you are alive.”

 

With her husband safely back at her side and both of them on the road to recovery, Sasha finally re-emerges and rejoins the rest of the Shatterdome in the daily routines. In the cafeteria, she acknowledges the well wishes of her crew, chatting with the ones going back home to Russia. The first few days she appears there only to load a tray high with food and carry it, one-handed, back to the infirmary.  Aleksis’ left hand is still cast-bound and so is her right; between them they only have one pair of functioning arms (and neither are their dominant hands), so mealtimes can be a sloppy ordeal. 

Soon though, Mako shows up by their door right before lunch to help wheel Aleksis outside, and the Kaidonovskys eat alongside the other survivors.  Sasha’s chin is still mottled with healing burns, Aleksis’ beard tinged blue with kaiju blood, and both of them are beginning to show dark roots in their hair because Sasha cannot dye it with a broken arm (and will not ask the nurses to help).  Most startling, Sasha wears her hair loose of her customary braids, and trades her blood-red lip color in for a lighter shade.  The changes in their appearance draw a few startled glances at first, but as usual the Russians are unfazed, and wear their scars with pride.

In that week, she discovers that she enjoys Mako and Raleigh’s company. The two are in the awkward early stage of their relationship, and although they are secure in each other’s affections thanks to their time in the Drift, Sasha finds it amusing to watch them blunder through their daily routines, now changed by the presence of another.  One morning Raleigh brings to the table breakfast trays for two, a chivalrous gesture that Mako clearly does not expect, because she appears moments with another tray for herself, looking sheepish. Later in the same day, they have the opposite problem, when Raleigh prepares only his own meal and Mako shows up empty-handed, and misses half their lunch period standing in the lengthy queue. 

 

Sasha finds herself in the position of an auntie; at least, that’s what it feels like when Mako steals to their hospital room in the evening with offerings of green tea and Pocky. The young Japanese woman bows apologetically at Aleksis, who smiles knowingly and dons headphones to give them privacy. He turns his attention to _Les Miserables_ , simultaneously devouring the crunchy chocolate sticks three at a time.

“You must have gained much wisdom from building such a strong marriage,” Mako ventures, pouring tea for them both.  “I am open to any advice you would share.”

Sasha sips from her cup, taking pleasure in the woody, light flavor.  “Each man and woman is different,” she begins, thoughtfully. “But perhaps I can share what Lyosha and I have learned from being married and being Jaeger pilots at the same time.”

Mako’s expression sharpens with interest. “Yes.”

Sasha’s gaze moves to Aleksis, who has by now finished an entire box of Pocky and appears engrossed in the hefty volume. She recalls the first, tentative days of their acquaintance, when she was still Aleksandra to him. Theirs was an unconventional courtship, with her goading him each morning in training and growling at him to _stop holding back, you lazy bear! The Kaiju will not take pity on you, so you must not take pity on me!_ When he had finally endured enough injury at her hands to begin fighting her in earnest, it had been the most glorious, exhilarating experience: of finding a true equal that challenged and uplifted you.  She had certainly not complained about seeing him strip shirtless each day either.

They were training partners for four months before their first time in the Drift; by then, she was seeking him out not only in training, but in the cafeteria, and during breaks.  Aleksis would wordlessly move his large body aside, making room for her.  Sasha had never been a small woman, but next to him she nevertheless felt dwarfed in size.  And he was never a man of many words, but she always knew what he was thinking, and always knew that she was welcome and treasured by his side.  He’d very quickly become her best friend, almost effortlessly. 

Surprisingly, their first Drift had been shaky. He’d been half in love with her already, and was trying desperately to hide it; inevitably it had bloomed forth the moment their minds had touched in the neural handshake. 

“Being honest is most important – for all couples but especially us.  The more you hide something, the more likely it will appear in the Drift, so do not bother.”

She had been surrounded by the images of her in his mind: the first time he’d seen her, in a striking red coat that matched the color on her lips; the first time she’d been paired to spar with him, and how nervous he’d been at the prospect of injuring the snow-white beauty in front of him, only to lie stunned as she flattened him in less than a minute.  The moment he’d realized that they were Drift compatible – the terror and exhilaration mingled when they were assigned to be partners for good, because he could not imagine anyone else by his side, but what if he messed up and got her hurt or killed? Though he had never yet called her such, she was already ‘Sasha’ in his mind, and ‘Sashenka’ in his heart.

Interspersed within those endearing memories were somewhat less innocent ones. He had a fondness for her breasts, it seemed. And her rear. And – oh, it was _he_ that had been spying on her that one time in the shower?  And after, he had –

She hadn’t known whether to feel indignant or flattered.

“When something unexpected does appear, forgive each other for being human.”

But the Drift was a two-way street, and she’d known that he had to be seeing every facet of her past – and that was the part she was uncomfortable with.  She knew it was hypocritical because he had been as open to her as a book, even given the vulnerability of his emotions, and she had rifled through the pages without hesitation. But now, feeling his thoughts twined with hers, and feeling his soft compassion filtering through as she relived the horrors of her childhood, she flinched away – and the neural handshake collapsed.

That night, she’d gone to his room, shaking, and told him everything: how she’d grown up orphaned and on the streets, of the atrocities she’d been victim to – and the lengths she’d gone to survive and escape.  It was a past that had shaped her as a fighter, and a survivor, and she knew that without those experiences she would certainly never have developed the fortitude to be a Jaeger pilot candidate, much less the top-ranked cadet in her class. But it was a painful, unhappy time that she’d thought that she’d put behind her; never had she anticipated sharing it with another.

He’d been quiet, absorbing her words without judgment, large hands stroking her back with care, and somehow by the end of the night, she was curled up next to him on his bed, the weight of his arm comforting around her waist.  “My brave, beautiful Sasha,” he murmured into her hair. And she knew then for certain that she could trust Aleksis Kaidonovsky with anything.

Their next Drift had stunned their supervisors; it was one of the strongest they had ever seen. 

“It is easy to rely on the Drift to understand each other, but you must not use it as a crutch.  There is no substitute for talking as any other man and woman would do. Talking to each other will strengthen you as the Drift brings you closer together.”

Mako is nodding intently.  There is a muffled thump, and the two women turn.  It had been Aleksis’ thick novel hitting the ground; he has fallen asleep, his injuries and medication combined undoubtedly taking a toll on his body.

“I should go,” Mako whispers apologetically.  She helps Sasha gather up the teacups, and stands with a wave of farewell, preparing to leave.  Sasha moves close to her husband, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he lies in repose.

“One more,” Sasha suddenly adds. Mako turns from her position at the door and waits expectantly. Sasha’s grin suddenly turns sly. “After you Drift together…the scientists will want to monitor you, study your brains.  Refuse.  And go straight to bedroom. That is the best time for love.”

Face reddening, Mako stammers her thanks, and flees.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that week, they find the Wei triplets – but only one alive.

Jin Wei is rushed into surgery immediately. The entire Shatterdome is tense, and all of China watches, hoping desperately that one of their heroes has made it.  The local TV networks show nothing but repeat footage of Crimson Typhoon’s past victories, as if to bolster Jin’s chances.  The government has forbidden airing of any footage from the double event. Sasha does not know whether to be grateful for this, because she does not believe in running from fears but does not particularly wish to relive that night either.

It is very bad.  It becomes immediately clear that Jin’s legs are beyond salvation.  Sasha mourns when she thinks of the three identical men weaving gracefully between each other, passing and shooting a basketball. Each night she and Aleksis say a prayer for Jin, and for the souls of his brothers, and for those who have not yet been found.  In the eight months that the Kaidonovskys had spent in Hong Kong, they had been friendly with the Wei triplets, who had ribbed them good-naturedly about their music choices, and had once hijacked Cherno’s speaker systems to blare sugary c-pop ballads instead (in response to which Sasha had given their shoes to Max the bulldog).  The Weis had been their guides on trips into the city, and a snapshot of the two pilot teams laughing over dim sum together had been widely circulated around China and Russia, as a symbol of friendship between the two countries.

The days pass, and Jin’s condition worsens.  On the worst night, Sasha and Aleksis go to stand vigil outside his room in intensive care.  They find Herc sitting there, with Max lying at his feet.  The dog wags his tail at the sight of them, but stays faithfully by Herc’s side. Herc has his head in his hands, and looks like he hasn’t slept in days.  Upon seeing them, he moves to clasp hands with Aleksis.  “How are you feeling, mate?”

“Ready to get out of this chair,” Aleksis answers immediately.  Sasha shoots Herc a _don’t listen to him_ look, and he smiles wanly at her. 

“How is Jin?” she asks, moving to stand in the window.  The figure on the bed is still, covered in bandages, but at least the machines indicate a steady heartbeat.

“Docs don’t know if he’ll pull through or not.”  Herc lets out a breath.  “Only thing we can do now is wait.”

There are footsteps down the hall, and Mako and Raleigh appear.  Mako carries a jar of small red paper cranes.  She places them in a row on the windowsill, where they gaze upon Jin with their pointed faces.

For hours, the five of them remain, watching over their comrade, the quiet only broken by the occasional beep of a machine from within Jin’s room.

 

Perhaps the strength of their wishes makes the difference, for Jin awakens several days later.  The first things he asks for are his brothers. 

China is jubilant. The government moves forward with plans for a large state funeral for the deceased Wei siblings, relieved that only two, not three, are to be buried.  Glossy invitations on heavy cardstock decorated with red paper dragons are dropped in the Kaidonovsky’s mailbox.

When Sasha visits Jin for the first time since his awakening, someone has left the TV on in what was probably meant to be a considerate gesture.  Jin’s eyes are glued to the screen, as images of himself and his brothers flash by.  He doesn’t even notice Sasha until she shuts the screen off.

Jin cannot speak very loudly, so she strains to hear him. “It is not right,” he begins. “They want to put medals on me and all I want is to join my brothers at the bottom of the sea.”

“Nonsense,” Sasha scolds.  The only way she knows how to comfort is by scolding, which really makes her terrible for these situations. But Jin is their friend, and she will not let him drift away. “You have long life ahead of you. Do not dishonor it with this talk.”

Jin is quiet for a moment.  “Sasha,” he says, with an eerie sort of serenity. “Would you feel differently if your husband had not lived?”

She cannot answer. 

“You see,” Jin whispers.  “You understand. There is nothing left.”

And she does not know how to help him. 

 

Ultimately, Raleigh ends up being the best companion that Jin can have, at least in the first few weeks.  The good-natured American tells stories about his own deceased brother Yancy, and soon Jin has begun sharing his own. As the Chinese man takes the first agonizing steps toward recovery, Aleksis and Sasha continue to visit him, bringing what small comforts they can: audiobooks, _shumai_ dumplings against the doctors’ orders, a bottle of vodka for each week Jin remains bedridden (“We will drink it together when you can leave the bed,” Sasha orders, “or else you will get as red as an apple, and maybe your head will explode.”).  In the second week that Jin is awake, they find members of the triplets’ old gang.  The rough-and-tumble bunch smoke heavily and talk loudly, but Sasha is not intimidated by their type, and the sight of them makes Jin’s face light up.  They stay for hours, telling lewd jokes in discordant Cantonese, offering to join a wheelchair basketball league with him, and promising to come back often.

In the meantime, Sasha and Aleksis attend the funeral, along with the rest of their friends.  It is a lavish and highly ceremonial affair, somewhat at odds’ with the Wei clan’s kind, humble personalities. They are exempt from speaking, thankfully, because the ceremony is in Mandarin.  But it is their first public appearance in a while and they know that eyes are on them.  Soon after, pictures of them are all over the Internet: the two of them in their uniforms, their arms bandaged and Aleksis still wheelchair-bound.  “Scarred forever, but defeated? Never!” one Russian photo caption reads proudly. 

It is inaccurate, of course. Sasha’s lip curls in disgust at the way the media glorifies the images of them, crippled from their fight.  They have been receiving messages from Moscow, encouraging them to come home once they are able.  The Russian government is excavating Cherno, with the help of ‘local contractors’ – Sasha thinks of the scavengers and is not fooled – and the great mech would be displayed in a new monument – a monument to their personal courage and to Russia’s contribution in foiling humanity’s greatest enemy. There would be a grand parade, and a great celebration, and Russia’s people needed their heroes back home where they belonged. 

And what would they do there, soldiers in a time of peace?  It sickens her to think of Cherno, as brave a warrior as themselves, reduced to a lifeless decoration when she was always destined to die fighting.  She wonders what Russia and the world will do with them now, and for days she thinks about how to refuse.

It is not only Sasha, but also the world at large navigating uncertain waters as they commence reconstruction. At first, there’s a bit of skepticism because frankly, people don’t believe that after so many terrible years, no more hostile aliens would erupt from the depths of their planet. Sasha understands that sentiment because she doesn’t quite believe it herself.  The short scientist, Dr. Geiszler, and his limping colleague, Dr. Gottlieb, had Drifted with the kaiju themselves; who knows what they could have revealed?  Indeed, there is an outcry when the public learns of Dr. Geiszler and Dr. Gottleib’s experiment.  Pure foolishness – but it had been technically under Marshal Pentecost’s orders, and had ultimately helped end the war.

Regardless, there’s an outpouring of funding that pours back into the PPDC, borne of paranoia and opportunism both.  There’s talk of more Drift-related research, of course – corporations leap at that prospect, to develop civilian applications for the technique – and perhaps even another Jaeger to be designed and deployed in case of another incident.  Here, many Atlantic countries balk, already having committed billions in capital to the protection of people not their own, and unwilling to do more.  With the threat of the kaiju gone, the tenuous partnerships forged in wartime by the world’s nations begin to slowly unravel. 

 

On the day they are released from their hospital room, Sasha and Aleksis celebrate with the biggest slice of chocolate cake imaginable – and then with more private celebrations of another sort when they are finally alone and back in their own bed. Not long after, Sasha’s cast is finally removed, and the first thing she does is dye their hair again, so that it shines as bright as sunlight on snow.  Aleksis’ fracture is worse, but it will not be long before he, too, is free of the cast.  His leg still requires additional therapy; he will walk with a cane for a while, but all in all, it is good news.

One day Mako comes to them, with lowered eyes.  Pieces of Striker Eureka had been found, she explains sadly, but that is not the only reason she is here.  As Pentecost’s adopted daughter, Mako is the legal executor of his will.  It turns out that for years, he had been privately funding research and medical treatment meant to benefit other pilots and staff who had suffered from the effects of prolonged radiation exposure.  The researchers have already helped some crew members, she says, rattling off a few names.  Sasha recognizes several of the Russian ones – remembering with a start that one had just given birth to a boy.

Mako slips them a piece of paper with a name and contact information on it.  “For when you’re ready.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

In the next weeks Sasha concentrates on helping Aleksis recover.  First his cast comes off, and they are well enough to begin physical therapy (and to complement that treatment with many spirited arm-wrestling matches on their own – at least until Sasha nearly strains a muscle trying to cheat). In time, the wheelchair is no longer needed either.  Sasha will never forget the look in her husband’s eyes when he finally is able to stand, albeit with the help of a cane.  They are in a training room – padded in case he falls, their doctor explains, and Sasha scoffs because Aleksis will not fall.  When he has risen to his full and familiar height, she moves to stand at his right, where she has always been. His grip is tight on the cane, but his expression is triumphant.  “Did you miss the view from up there?” she teases.

His eyes drop down appreciatively to the cleavage revealed by her tank top and the corner of his mouth quirks, almost imperceptibly.

The doctor says meaningless, encouraging words as Aleksis slowly moves across the room, testing his newly regained balance.  At one point he stops as he passes his wheelchair.  He purposefully leans over and shoves the thing away, and it spins across the room to crash loudly against the far wall.

“Lieutenant Kaidonovsky, you will still need it for when you get tired – “

Aleksis’ glare cuts the man off.  “I will walk on my own two feet or not at all.”

For the first time in months, they walk back to their room side by side, holding hands. 

 

Herc comes to see them not long afterward.  Herc does things quite differently from Marshal Pentecost.  He doesn’t wear a uniform, sits with a different group of people at every meal, and still buses his own tray.  If people are intimidated, Max effectively provides an icebreaker.  It is difficult to be scared when the Marshal’s gregarious, ridiculous dog is pressing his side against your shins, begging to be petted – or when he manages to make off with your dinner roll, to the exasperation of his owner. It is a different style of leadership than they were used to, but it is nevertheless effective because people are getting to know and respecting the man, not the title.

Sasha is frowning over the canteen’s watery, flavorless version of _borscht_ (which Aleksis is nevertheless slurping down) when Max appears from under the table.  She obliges him with a scratch behind his ears, and when she stops paying him any mind he immediately moves onto Aleksis, letting out a few pitiful-sounding whines that yield a gruffly muttered Russian endearment and a piece of dropped bread crust.  As Max gets to work on his reward, Herc sets his tray down, greeting them both. He eschews Sasha’s offer to pass him the butter, instead pulling out a mustard-yellow jar of black paste that he spreads on his bread instead.

As the meal progresses, Sasha gets the sense that he wants something but is not quite willing to ask.  Herc asks questions about how they’re feeling, what they’re planning, and what they’ve been hearing from Russia, taking their answers with a thoughtful “Huh,” but not really pursuing the subject more.  Impatient as always, Sasha decides to put an end to Herc’s useless line of questioning.

“So are you going to ask us to stay?” she says, nonchalantly, right as Herc bites into a piece of roast chicken.  The Marshal starts, nearly choking in surprise, and Aleksis reaches over to pound him on his back until he holds up a hand indicating that he’s alright.  He gulps down half a glass of water and then starts laughing sheepishly.

“Well I didn’t want to force you into anything!” he grins. “Not that anyone could.  You two are free to do whatever you want.  But if you prefer to stay in Hong Kong, I could definitely use you.”

“How? You need another nuclear reactor?” Sasha studies him. It is clear that he needs support, at least emotionally – he looks worn, and it suddenly strikes her that he’s been taking care of everyone, and no one is there to look after him.  She feels a brief stab of guilt, but puts it aside, to focus on what she can do rather than what she has not done.

Herc leans forward, staring at them intently.  “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen.  Maybe we are done with the kaiju forever.  Maybe not.  Don’t tell anyone, but Newt and Hermann don’t think so.”  He lets that sink in for a moment.  “Either way, the PPDC won’t be idle.  Now that the war is over, and we actually have funding” – Herc’s voice grows a little sarcastic here – “we need to begin backing the right kind of research – research that can improve our technology.  Plus, people are clamoring to get their hands on our stuff – the Drift, the Jaeger specs, everything.  We need to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.” 

“So you need what? An enforcer?” 

“Perhaps.  I was thinking more like a diplomat.”  Herc sits back and waits.

The looks on their faces is, predictably, skeptical.  Sasha barks a harsh laugh while Aleksis simply leans forward, his large fists closing and opening, and studies Herc in a way that makes the Marshal a little nervous. “We are not good at talking.  Better at fighting,” the large man rumbles.

“No one in Russia is going to mess with you,” Herc counters.  “You’re their heroes.  The PPDC needs someone with enough pull there – we don’t have anyone else.”

“If you are so desperate, Marshal, you would have asked earlier,” Sasha adds, calculatingly. “As we told you, the Russian government already has requested that we return.  They have an entire package for us.  A plan, a parade, a position. Even a house.”

“That was weeks ago,” Herc points out.  “And for some reason, you haven’t left yet.”  His voice drops.  “I’ll admit it.   I’m trying to claim you two for us, before the Russian government takes you back.  We need people with influence.  We can’t have a repeat of what happened this last time – getting shut down right as things got tough.”

They are silent.  Sasha picks up her fork, spearing a piece of chicken.  Aleksis reaches down to the ground, and carefully picks up Max the bulldog, who goes pliantly limp as he is lifted.  Once in the large Russian man’s lap, Max pants and wiggles happily with canine joy, lunging to swipe Aleksis’ chin with his tongue and missing by several inches.  Aleksis scratches under the dog’s collar. “You will not use us,” he comments casually.

“Of course not,” Herc says, trying to laugh it off, although the message is very clear.  “But as pilots you two understand how important this is.  If this had been all done right from the beginning, maybe Cherno Alpha would have had escape pods, and pilots wouldn’t have been dying from cancer as often as they died to the kaiju. We didn’t have the time to do it right back then – but now we do.”  Herc takes a sip of watered-down juice before continuing.  “This would give you a good bit of freedom, you know.  You could choose to live here, or back in Russia.  There’d be a bit of travel, but after being cooped up here for almost a year, I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

No, Sasha thinks, they wouldn’t. 

 

They don’t discuss it further that evening, but the next day they’re back in the lab for a Drift session, to help some scientists who are trying to figure out how best to stabilize the process for applications other than Jaeger-piloting.  It’s a comfort to be brought back into the Drift – she feels that familiar mental lurch and then she’s swept along a tidal wave of Aleksis’ memories - _flashes of violence endured in snowy schoolyards, towering above his enemies and wrestling them into submission in a thrill of triumph and sorrow both, seeing a snow-white beauty with blood-red lips standing tall in a long coat, the heady sense of awe and anger and arousal mingled when he is first able to pin her down on the wrestling mat, tucking her into his side as their bodies cool in the night_ – and there he is, the precious brush of his mind against her own.  He’s missed this – _missed feeling you here Sashenka_ – and Sasha can’t help but flash briefly back to the last time they were like this, drowning in Cherno’s submerged core. 

 _Do not think about that,_ Aleksis prods gently. _We have a future now, ah?_

A future.  Inevitably her thoughts drift back to their conversation with Herc.  Here in the Drift, she can feel the flash of Aleksis’ thoughts – he is torn, between duty and love for his country and the truth that in the long run, they would be more needed here with the PPDC, ensuring that the world they had saved did not run itself into ruin after the apocalypse had been averted. The letters and telephone calls with officials in Moscow come to mind.  They have been offered what is essentially a sinecure in deference to their service – meaningless.  It is clear that their role is as heroes only – symbols of a time that people are too eager to put behind them.  Moscow has no vision for them in the post-kaiju world.  They will be national treasures; enshrined, celebrated, made obsolete and ultimately forgotten. Even worse, several politicians have already reached out to them, undoubtedly hoping to use Russia’s heroes to further their own ambitions.

An image appears in Aleksis’ mind – the nuclear tower head of Cherno Alpha, on display in a Moscow square.  Sasha doesn’t know where the image is from – Aleksis’ imagination, probably, and implausible given the damage their Jaeger had sustained in its final fight – but it is still grossly _wrong_ and she is suddenly nauseous. 

She misses Cherno Alpha.  It is sudden and bone-deep.  Aleksis’ emotions, rarely expressed in words but warm and alive here in the Drift, coil around her, giving her the steadiness that she has always relied on from her big bear of a partner.  _Lyosha,_ she thinks.  It is a caress.

Their decision is made.

At the request of the science team they perform some simple mental exercises – throwing an imaginary tennis ball, reconstructing a simple block puzzle, playing word games.  In between, they wander through various memories, occasionally finding discrepancies between his and her recollection of a particular event. ( _I was exhausted and dirty,_ Sasha protests, recalling the feeling of grime and sweat on her palms. _No,_ Aleksis asserts, _you were strong and beautiful.)_

To their regret it is not a terribly long session, and as the scientists are working, winding it down to an end, Sasha can’t help but think again of her despair, the drugging loneliness that had pulled her down before they’d found him alive.  Aleksis is in her mind, and amidst his sorrow that she’d had to go through that, while he’d simply woken up to her presence alongside him, she senses that he is…amused?  Following the misty trail of his thoughts, she finds that he is inwardly chuckling at what she’d been like – cantankerous and catty – when she was alone, unmoored without him.  Sasha feels the beginnings of righteous indignation, the retort already forming in her mind. It dies abruptly when she hears his last thought, colored with tenderness: _she will be a tough pregnant woman to keep happy._

As the neural handshake breaks, she sits there stunned, feeling flushed and pale at once.  Beside her, Aleksis is blinking as they recover from the Drift.  He looks her way – and his expression tightens when he sees her.  He pushes himself out of his chair and kneels before, taking her hands in his own. There are apologies in his eyes.

It is no use.  Sasha is frozen.  It is as if time has stopped and there is nothing but Aleksis and his thoughts echoing all around them, feeding the fear that paralyzes her.

Waving off the scientists hovering around them, Aleksis pulls his wife tightly against him, and together they retreat to the privacy of their quarters.

 

“Sashenka,” she hears some time later, as she is nestled within the cocoon of her husband’s arms.  The warmth of his large body is thawing the ice around her heart, slowly.  “Tell me what you fear.”

She cannot be a mother.  She, an angry and abandoned orphan who had no mother of her own – she, a misfit of the streets who had been tortured and betrayed, and who had tortured and betrayed in turn.  She was a sinner, a murderer, a she-wolf grown rabid and desperate to survive. She had no right to give life, no knowledge of how to nourish it into something warm and lovely and bright – something unlike her bitter and furious self.  No right to even want it.  She had blessings enough, greater than she deserved: Cherno Alpha, and her husband, and her life preserved.

“You have always wanted this more than I,” she retorts, knowing that it is childish, and that it is dodging the question. Aleksis will understand anyway. Aleksis’ childhood – though marred with his own struggles – had nevertheless been rooted in a loving family, a family that had honed and shaped him into an honorable and gentle man when he could have turned into a callous bully, in the image of those who had dogged him.  She’d walked his memories with envy before – he would be a wonderful father.

“Perhaps,” he allows.  “But I have seen your heart.” There is no hiding from him, in the Drift or out. Even as she feared it, he knew how much she wanted it, and how they had both buried the little dream far away, because they’d been told it was impossible: that the only thing they would bring to life together was Cherno Alpha, and what more could they ask for?  And now, that revived wish grew painfully, pushing through cracks in an icy earth left undisturbed for years.

“Easier never to want it, than to hold it and lose it,” she whispers.  “I had you for six years, and nothing was worse than when I thought you were lost.”

He looks down at her, and she sees again the sorrow in his eyes.  “You will not lose me again,” he whispers in her ear, his beard tickling at her cheek. Sasha does not quite believe him – too many things beyond their control, train wrecks and aneurysms and other everyday horrors – but at least she knows that if he goes, she will follow not far behind.  She leaves this unvoiced. Aleksis continues, his words accompanied by the press of large hands up her spine. “My brave wife has never run from anything.”

“Do not call me a coward,” she hisses, suddenly furious, moving to push him away.  _Don’t you_ _understand? I am trapped, between fearing this, and wanting it, and fearing that it will be taken once I want it._

 _Of course I do._ “Do not act like one,” he replies, gentle but inexorable. “You do not bear this burden alone, little wolf. Our joys and sorrows alike are shared.”

He is comforting and chiding her, deservedly so, and she feels relieved and guilty all at once.  Hot, silent tears escape to sink into the fabric of Aleksis’ shirt, and later they shine against the bare skin of his shoulder. She lets him lead, and together they move in wordless communion, slow and tender.

The next day, she finds the slip of paper that Mako has left them. As she makes the call, Aleksis holds her hand the whole time.

 _I am not ready,_ Sasha thinks.  But they press on.


	6. Chapter 6

In the next few days, Sasha makes the call to Moscow, and explains to them, as patiently as she can, that they have decided to remain with the PPDC in Hong Kong. Moscow is unhappy about the news; Sasha endures incredulous pleas from several officials.  In the end the Russian government cannot really do anything about it, since the Kaidonovskys have technically been on the PPDC payroll rather than Russia’s for years.  But the officials are somewhat mollified when, in a first exercise of her diplomatic tact, Sasha attributes their decision to ‘health concerns’ that require them to remain in Hong Kong for ‘continued observation and treatment’. She does not elaborate.

The official news article that is released after this conversation makes it seem as though they are facing a possibly-fatal illness. The reporter trumpets their years of courage and sacrifice, and generously references all the pilots who had died from cancer caused by radiation exposure in their Jaegers. The article even presents a grim sidebar of Jaeger pilot survival statistics organized by Mark (Mark I certainly does not look promising, but to be fair, at 50%, not even Mark V presents a happy picture).

For a while, Sasha and Aleksis are bombarded by well-meaning but misguided letters and flower arrangements from their concerned countrymen.  They are not sure what to do initially, leaving the flowers in awkward, fragrant piles around the Shatterdome. Soon Mako suggests donating the flowers to local hospitals, and it certainly seems like the right thing to do.  Inevitably, hospital workers snap dozens of camera phone pictures of the famous Russian heroes bringing smiles to the grateful victims of Hong Kong’s kaiju attacks. Hungry for feel-good stories, news sources all over the world publish those images, and to their embarrassment the Kaidonovskys are once again all over the news, this time written up in glowing terms for their compassion for others in the face of personal struggle.

They save the most absurd arrangement – a giant teddy bear made out of white carnations, bearing a distinctly eerie smile – for Jin, of course, sneaking it into his room when he is asleep.  When Jin wakes up and sees the huge white figure looming over him like a ghost, he shrieks so loudly that all his doctors come running, only to find their patient hunched over, laughing so hard his insides hurt.

 

In the meantime, the details of Sasha and Aleksis’ duties for the PPDC are ironed out.  They will be monitoring and negotiating the transfer of technology to the Russian government, as well as Russian corporations.  It is a task that takes advantage of their status and their stature, and they turn out to be highly effective negotiators. Most meetings are held within the Shatterdome, so in Hong Kong they remain. 

Aleksis begins sharing physical therapy sessions with Jin, who is now well enough to leave his hospital bed. Soon Jin is rolling around in a wheelchair much like Aleksis did before, only with the benefit of two working arms.  The big Russian guides Jin on his first solo wheelchair trips, providing tips: braking techniques, heretofore-undiscovered elevators, sympathetic crewmembers willing to give an extra push.  Jin has regained much of his previously-cheerful personality, but there are moments each day where he’s talking, and looks over expecting to see one of his brothers, or pauses as if he expects an acknowledgement that never comes.  It is lonely being the sole survivor; there is only a certain level of comfort that friends can provide when so much of your soul has been torn and stolen.

Mako and Herc continue to shoulder their own grief. For Mako, Raleigh is a constant source of support. In many ways, Sasha thinks, they are very similar; Raleigh’s innate exuberance had been tempered by grief, and Mako’s strength and sensitivity had been built upon a foundation of loss. Raleigh now fulfills a similar role to the Kaidonovskys, but dealing with the US; his style is less intimidating and more accommodating than that of the Russians, but there is an equivalent amount of drinking involved.  Mako is working in her original capacity as an engineer, now designing Jaeger-inspired constructs for industrial uses. Once in a while Raleigh travels to Washington, D.C., and in the empty evenings when he is gone, Mako spends her time with the others: discussing literature with Aleksis while Sasha touches up her blue highlights, watching game shows with Jin, or going over specs with Herc.

Herc is a lifelong soldier; he bears the burden of his duty without complaint.  “Like a reed,” Mako says one day, seeing the Marshal awake late at night, still buried in reports, “He bends with the wind. He does not break.”  There is an unspoken agreement between them all that they help him when they are able.  They never bring up Chuck; they simply offer to lighten Herc's load by taking that phone call, or briefing the team, or taking Max out, or in the Kaidonovskys’ case, “making this fool disappear.”

 

The routines of peacetime are strange to Sasha initially, after six years of having her life dictated by the blare of the kaiju alarm. But normality is nice in many ways.  There are things that were once out of reach that they can now lay claim to easily.  One of these things is an apartment of their own.  They are soldiers no longer; there is no reason to remain in their cramped, standard-issue dorm.

They are husband and wife, and they have been married for over six years, and they have faced down colossal monsters together, but it is the first time they’ve faced this particular task.  It was so much easier, Sasha thinks, when they had no choice about their accommodations; when the miniscule upgrade from a shoebox to a shoebox-with-a-kitchenette felt like a godsend; when the bureaucratic approval for one large bed to replace two small ones had been the greatest domestic challenge they’d faced. 

It is completely Aleksis’ fault, Sasha decides, that they have seen ten apartments and they have not yet decided on any one of them.  Some of them have obvious faults: windows that look directly onto busy streets (too much noise); no elevators (Aleksis’ cane); low ceilings (Aleksis’ head). A few of them are just fine, Sasha thinks, but she can tell Aleksis doesn’t like something about them the moment they go in, and she becomes increasingly exasperated each time she demands, “How about this one?” and he shakes his head.  At least watching each landlord’s crestfallen expression as she delivers the bad news proves entertaining.

Five hours later she is ready to give up, resigning herself to the reality of several more years in their shared dormitory, but there is something different about this last one.  It’s in a quiet neighborhood that’s managed to avoid the destruction of the past several years, and the center of the building reveals a blooming garden and a playground where several children romp. The apartment, when they see it, is airy and bright.

But three bedrooms?  What do they need three bedrooms for?  Although, having two bathrooms would be nice, she thinks, thinking of reserving one counter just for her cosmetics.  And the fireplace is lovely, although Hong Kong is just too hot for a fire even in the winter.  There is a sizeable kitchen, too – important because Aleksis is the cook between them, not she.  The most stunning feature is the view overlooking a bay that looks less like a kaiju graveyard each day, and more like the busy port that had shaped Hong Kong’s history. 

The landlady excuses herself to give them some time to think. Sasha finds herself enfolded in her husband’s large arms. “It’s too big,” she declares, but the protest is half-hearted.  

He turns them to the window.  “It is our first home together. I want it to be right.”

They watch the scene below them, on the docks.  Months ago, when Sasha had ventured there alone, searching for Aleksis in the waters, they had been in shambles.  Today there’s a cheerful construction crew rebuilding a warehouse, and a mother and two children stroll by, waving to them.  Sasha imagines that they’ll continue to witness Hong Kong’s recovery upon these docks as the months go by.

They sign the lease that afternoon.

 

Three nights into their residence at their new apartment, Sasha hears a loud, indignant yelp in the hall outside their rooms, followed by a familiar-sounding bark.  She does not bother with the peephole, but throws the door open and looks down the hallway.  In his wheelchair, with several colorful boxes on his lap, Jin Wei has managed to get himself stuck halfway in and halfway out of the elevator, trapped by the closing door.  Max the bulldog has helpfully grabbed onto one of Jin’s dangling pant legs and is attempting to pull him out; Herc is laughing too hard to help.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha demands, although she can guess by the looks of it.  The smell of takeout fills the hall; Herc is holding some large, wrapped packages himself, and in the next moment Mako and Raleigh appear, having clearly opted to take the stairs. 

“Surprise!” Jin calls. “Housewarming party!”

“Intruders. Are we to be denied the peace and quiet that we moved here for?” Sasha is half-grumbling and half-laughing.

“Where else can we do it?” Mako retorts playfully. “No one else has their own house!”

They do not have much yet to offer their intruders in the way of entertainment, food, or soft seating, but no one seems to care.  The assembled Rangers shove their belongings in a corner, and they pile onto the one sectional that Sasha and Aleksis have acquired, with Mako perching delicately on Raleigh’s lap.  With a bow, she presents them with a large loaf of bread and a jar of gourmet sea salt.

“Very traditional,” Sasha comments, accepting the gifts.  Aleksis takes them from her, sniffing the bread appreciatively.

Raleigh shrugs. “I Googled it,” he admits.  “Here’s something even better.”  He brandishes several huge bottles of Stolichnaya, to the cheers of those assembled.  Mako produces a bag of large red plastic cups, and the Stoli is passed around.

Later, already rosy from a half-cup of vodka, Jin wheels around the apartment peeking into the rooms, all of which are still fairly empty.  “It is very nice,” he comments, as Aleksis pushes open a door for him to see inside.  “Very spacious.  What will the extra rooms be?”

“A library, here,” Aleksis gestures to one, which has built-in shelves on one wall.

“And the other?”

It is the room that they’ve purposely left untouched, just in case. But it is too early to share that, so Aleksis shrugs. “We will see. Perhaps a dungeon.”  He smirks down at the Chinese pilot sputtering in shock. “You are invited, if you wish,” he comments offhandedly, before rejoining the party.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jin calls after the large man, but he gets no response. “I cannot decide which one of them would be scarier,” he mutters to himself as he wheels slowly back into the living room.

 

Dinner consists of several containers of take-out, a Tupperware of elegantly-wrapped homemade gyoza (clearly Mako’s handiwork), and some too-salty guacamole (Raleigh looks defensive when Herc comments on it, and Mako giggles).  They are six Jaeger pilots and a dog, crowded around a table meant for four, and there’s a lot of jostling and passing.  Like a concerned mother Mako keeps putting gyoza on Aleksis’ plate, and he promptly eats each one, until Raleigh complains about being neglected.  Sasha ends up eating mostly fried rice, as it is right in front of her and it’s too much trouble to constantly pass things around, but she doesn’t mind. 

After dinner, they open their presents.  From Jin’s colorful boxes emerges a high-end surround-sound stereo system that is met with beaming approval – until they notice the accompanying CD of Chinese pop hits from the 1990s.  “A CD, Jin?  It’s 2025.  Who even uses CDs anymore?” Raleigh grins.

(Aleksis leans over deliberately and mutters one word to Jin – “dungeon” – and the Chinese man looks a little pale.)

A small, modest-looking box from Raleigh yields an unexpected surprise.  Someone has made a matryoshka doll of them – a uniformed Sasha, and then a suited Sasha, and a uniformed Aleksis, and then a suited Aleksis, and finally a large Cherno Alpha to contain them all.  It is passed around with admiration.  Sasha has to admit that the details are quite thoughtful, from the blood-red lipstick to the golden embroidery on the backs of their jackets.

Mako’s large, flat box opens to reveal framed artwork – a painting of Cherno Alpha, emerging triumphant through a storm on the Siberian coast. “We will put her in a place of honor,” Sasha promises.  Mako smiles, reaching out to grasp Sasha’s hand briefly.

When Sasha looks around, there are still many boxes left.  Herc coughs, embarrassedly.  “They, uh, sort of go together,” he explains.  Sasha opens one to find a heavy set of bowls; another reveals a floppy stuffed animal that squeaks when squeezed. When the third package reveals a long red leash, they put it together. 

“How did you know?” Sasha laughs and embraces Herc, and then leans down to accept a sloppy kiss from Max.  “It was your idea, was it not?” she asks the bulldog, who is wiggling his rump so hard he falls over. Aleksis thumps Herc on the back; the Australian staggers briefly before recovering with a sheepish grin.

Raleigh sighs plaintively.  “A dog? Herc, you just wanted to make everyone else look bad.”

The other boxes reveal a crate and several more toys.  “Where is the actual animal?” Mako asks, a little disappointedly.

Herc shrugs. “Plenty of pups looking for homes at the shelter. I thought Sasha and Aleksis would prefer to go pick one out themselves.”  Then, he pauses. “Erm, if you can housebreak it before you start taking it to the Shatterdome, that would be _great._ ”

“No such promises,” Sasha laughs.

Sometime past midnight, their guests finally depart in a rowdy, drunken mess.  There is some cleanup to do, but Sasha does not mind.  She looks at the living room, no longer so barren for the gifts that their friends have bestowed upon them – gifts honoring one phase in their lives, but given in celebration of a new one. She sinks down onto the sectional and Aleksis joins her.

“Does it feel like home, Lyosha?”

“Yes.”


	7. Chapter 7

There are two new additions to the family, and so Sasha and Aleksis’ schedules shift accordingly.  They now awaken an hour earlier than before, and the first thing they do is take Misha and Bella out.  The two pups are usually up before them, whining and wriggling in anticipation of going outside.  Although there is the occasional mishap involving an accident, a chewed shoe, or stolen food, they are generally well-behaved and eager to please. 

Misha is a handsome, blue-eyed husky straight out of their dreams.  He has a little black mask around his eyes that makes him look fierce to anyone that has not met him or watched him trip over his own paws. His name is a joke; he is called a ‘little bear’ but of course he actually resembles a little wolf. They’d found Misha at the shelter first, and the bold little pup had immediately pawed against the chains of his enclosure, yipping for attention and licking at their fingers.  But when they’d taken him out, the husky had stood still and whined, gazing back at the fuzzy brown shepherd mix that had shared the pen with him.  That other pup had been shy, sitting cautiously at the back of the enclosure, but now she came forward and nosed at her friend sadly, looking up at the Kaidonovskys with expressive dark eyes.

“They were found together,” the shelter staff woman had explained.  “They’re bonded.”

Sasha had looked at Aleksis and he had nodded.  “Then we will take them both,” she had said.

Now the puppies share a crate in the Kaidonovskys’ living room, and enjoy a happy life being cuddled and walked and trained.  Sasha has taken it upon herself to train them; they have since progressed from coming when called, to sitting on command, to lying down.  Their current challenge is learning to _stay –_ an agonizing command for exuberant, energetic animals that wanted nothing _less_ than to stay. Bella is usually more compliant than Misha, who tends to get distracted and wander off. On the other hand, Misha is more compelled by food – but Sasha knows that if she is not careful, the dog will not pay attention at all unless there is a treat in sight.  It is a challenge that occupies much of Sasha’s time, but she is proud of the progress that the dogs make each week.  She wonders if she can eventually train them to pull a sled.

In the evenings Aleksis plays with them.  Having two dogs works well; most of the time, he tosses a stuffed animal across the room, and one of them reaches it first, snatching the precious prize in its mouth and swinging it around triumphantly.  The other begins to lunge and growl, attempting to steal it away. They wear themselves out playing tug of war while Aleksis reads peacefully, not bothered by the constant squeaking of the beleaguered chew toy.

Today, on their morning walk, Misha finds a stick that he carries proudly for several blocks, before abandoning it for an empty soda can.  Bella is the better walker, generally happy to follow along, and only occasionally gets distracted by passing cars.  The Kaidonovskys tend to attract attention on their own, but with the puppies in tow they are like magnets; _everyone_ wants to come over and coo over and pet the little darlings, and could they maybe get a picture with the famous Russian heroes too?  (The morning walk is usually not too bad; the evening walk is the worst.) The pups must also personally investigate _every_ corner and nook and item left on the ground; Sasha has to pry a half-eaten, saliva-covered acorn from Misha’s jaws while Aleksis holds Bella’s leash as she strains to sniff at an irresistible bush.  It is a good forty-five minutes before they make it back to the apartment. 

There are two new additions to the family and Sasha sometimes thinks that if a third never happens it might be okay; there are worse children to have than two rambunctious, delightful little wolves.

 

But as it so happens today is their appointment.  Sasha has put it forcefully out of her mind since the day she called; she tells herself that there is no point in dwelling.  But with the day at hand she finds herself increasingly apprehensive.  Would she rather know bad news for certain, or never find out?  She chides herself, disgusted at her thoughts, but unwilling to help them.  Aleksis is silent, as usual, but she can feel him watching her concernedly; she can almost feel two spots of warmth on her back from his gaze.  He does it a little too often, causing Sasha to snap tersely at him that she’s _fine, stop looking at me like that_ – and afterwards he does it less but the look in his eyes is no less gentle.

In the afternoon they make their way to the lab. It’s a small group of specialists who have dedicated themselves to researching and treating diseases common to those who have worked closely and consistently with the Jaeger program.  It started after Tamsin, Mako had explained; Marshal Pentecost had begun the funding in her honor.  Many of the staff have oncology and psychiatry backgrounds, appropriately, but there are a few fertility specialists in the group.

Their doctor is a sweet-faced Chinese woman who looks entirely too young for the date on her medical school diploma.  To Sasha’s relief Dr. Li does not fawn upon them, nor does she waste time with cloying expressions of remorse for their sacrifice.  She treats them as what they are – a couple hoping to start a family.  There are some initial conversations about their health – questions that they answer together as Dr. Li types up notes. And then Dr. Li sets those notes aside and begins to talk about their prospects, based on their experience with others.

The fertility specialists in this facility had never had a pilot team approach them, and of course the pilots were the heart of the Jaegers – the Kaidonovskys literally – and the radiation exposure in those moments when the three were linked had been very high, especially in the Mark Is before the shielding had been improved.  But, the doctor continues, many of the engineers had worked constantly on those mechs for years, and being exposed constantly was more of a problem than being exposed intermittently.  There have been a few triumphs for some of those engineers – not all, Dr. Li stresses, and in those cases it was usually only one half of the couple that has received the radiation exposure, not both.  But the Kaidonovskys are healthy, and though they are not young, they are young enough.  It is up to them whether to try.

“Of course we will try,” Sasha says quickly, before she even gives herself the chance to reconsider. She does not need to ask Aleksis to know he agrees.

Dr. Li nods. “It may be a long journey,” she says. “But know that we will work as hard as we can to make this happen for you.” 

There are examinations, of course, for both of them, and they start immediately.  It seems that since waking up in the sea, Sasha has always been surrounded by doctors of some kind, poking and prodding at her, and now as they embark upon this new endeavor, that is not to change.  Aleksis is not exempt; as always he bears these things more stoically than she, despite the fact that these exams are arguably more awkward for him.

A month later comes the more formal diagnosis – the source of the problem is Aleksis, not she.  They have a good laugh over this, but Aleksis’ eyes are a little sad, and later that night Sasha makes sure to show him – very passionately, and several times – that she does not resent him for this flaw.  It is not his fault, of course.  Luckily there are solutions to the problem, and they move ahead with one of them. 

The first thing they do is swear off alcohol – together, because they always do things together. Then they try and wait, and try and wait, and try and wait again. 

 

Meanwhile the world continues to turn.  Jin’s level of celebrity in his home country continues to rise.  He appears on talk shows and radio shows; he becomes a spokesman for several charities benefiting kaiju attack victims, and through these actions he generates continued goodwill and popular support for the PPDC.  These days he is writing a book in honor of his brothers and the other pilots who have died. He spends several hours talking with the other survivors, recalling long-ago battles, strange Jaeger malfunctions, and both the victories and tragedies.

One day, over lunch with the Kaidonovskys, he lets slip that he is in talks with a couple of producers who want to create a dating show to find him a girlfriend.  Sasha is a little appalled, but Jin just laughs and shrugs.  “That is what people want to see,” he explains. “They mean well.”

“And you? Surely you cannot expect to find a wife through a TV show.” Sasha looks at Aleksis and recalls their own courtship – fewer dates than sparring matches, but as they had grown and suffered together they’d shaped a certainty that was unbreakable. She wonders how any lasting partnership could be forged without enduring the crucible of hardship.

Jin is laughing and holding up his hands.  “I am not looking for a wife,” he says.  “I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to have some fun.”

Two weeks later the show is officially announced, causing a frenzy among the young unmarried female population (and many young unmarried males) of China.  The Shatterdome is completely besieged by letters, and flowers, and other bizarre gifts. One woman sends her vintage pin collection from the 2008 Beijing Olympics, claiming that if it worked for Yao Ming, it might work for her too.  Another sends a shoe, which is checked vigorously for explosives before being forwarded to Jin.  The accompanying note says, cheekily, “I’ve already got one shoe in the door. Help me get all the way in!”

“Was this your idea of fun?” Sasha asks him later, as they sit in Jin’s room, sorting through the letters.  Aleksis prefers literature to fan mail; he sits nearby on the floor leaning against Jin’s bed with a Russian copy of _Moby Dick._

Jin just groans from under a pile of rose-scented letters.

“Here, read this one.” Sasha passes him one particular letter that had nearly gotten lost in the wave of fan mail.  (She felt truly sorry for those who worked in the Shatterdome mailroom.) Unlike the others, this letter has been addressed to _her_ ; it is from the young scavenger girl.  She had been the one who’d stayed up keeping an eye out for Aleksis while her family slept, and she had ultimately seen the large body floating among a field of debris.  She had been the instrument of their reunion.  Passing her message along to Jin was the least Sasha could do.

The letter is written in a fit of girlish concern for an idol, but it shows a kind heart. It begs Sasha to keep Jin from going forward with the show.   _He deserves the same as what you have with your husband – a bond that defies even death,_ it reads.  _He will not find it on a TV show._ The letter is signed, “Li An/Anna.”

Jin takes the letter with a skeptical expression, clearly expecting some perverse joke, but his expression changes as he reads it, turning thoughtful.  At the end, he smiles, genuinely.  “How cute.”

“Too young for you,” Sasha says immediately.

Jin’s face falls.  “I can still write her back, can’t I?”

And he does.

 

For Sasha and Aleksis, it is a long, agonizing year of trying. 

The months pass by slowly for Sasha; she cannot help but count down every time.  As they switch from one method to another, she fights and fights against hope, because she knows that disappointment is all too likely.  Near the end the procedures are exhausting and invasive, and Aleksis is tender and quietly apologetic, and Sasha does not have the energy anymore to snap at him. They both have no more words for this; they simply go on.

When they emerge on the other side, Misha and Bella are full grown and well-trained (though sometimes still prone to accidentally knocking things down with their tails) and Mako and Raleigh are _this_ close to getting engaged (Sasha can tell; Mako still confides in her) and Jin’s broken up with the winner of his dating show (but is still writing to Anna) and Sasha’s staring at the lines on the hated pregnancy tests bracing herself for disappointment again – but there are two lines.  _Two lines._  

And then she’s screaming for Aleksis and he comes running with the dogs barking and racing behind him, and they’re laughing, and crying, and laughing.


	8. Chapter 8

Sasha _hates_ being pregnant.

It is deeply ironic, she decides, that the thing she’d longed so deeply for, the thing for which they’d worked and suffered for an entire year, ends up being something she despises so wholeheartedly.  There is no part of her that identifies with the media portrayals of smiling, rosy-cheeked women that simultaneously maintain slim figures and round tummies.  Those images are complete lies. She feels bloated and huge despite not yet actually showing any discernible sign of a ‘bump’. She does not ‘glow’ – she is pale and unhappy and exhausted.  Her breasts are sore, her calves cramp at night, and the frequent trips to the restroom are mortifying.  The morning sickness is by far the most infuriating.  She vows not to put up with it, using an old ballerina’s trick to just get it over and done with – until Aleksis discovers this and is not pleased.  “You will never do this again,” he growls, pinning her with his gaze firmly.  She hisses back, but she listens.

The worst part is that she has to hide all of this.  It is too early to tell anyone; Dr. Li had recommended waiting until the crucial fifth month. Sasha knows that it is too early to even allow themselves to get attached, but the symptoms and the misery are all so real.  It is one of only two things she does not despise about pregnancy: that her suffering is _proof_ that there is some tiny flutter of life growing under her heart (and very definitely pressing against her bladder).

The other thing she does not despise is Aleksis, who watches and touches her with pure wonder in his eyes.  Sasha has stoically resolved _not_ to be a useless, pampered pregnant woman, but they continue to undergo monthly Drift sessions, and so now he knows her suffering as if it were his own. He kneads her calves when she awakens gasping from the cramps; he fetches glasses of water for her while she retches over the toilet in the early mornings; he murmurs soothing words and strokes her back at night, when she is utterly exhausted.  One evening she sees him reading, as he does often, except that he’s traded his beloved classics for _What to Expect When You’re Expecting,_ and is studying each chapter with a diligent frown. 

Aleksis will be an exemplary father.  It gives her hope, which she sorely needs, because from the looks of it she is sure to be a disastrous mother.

 

In the third month, Mako and Raleigh get engaged. It is a surprise to no one, but it is no less of a happy occasion for that.

There is an official celebration at the Shatterdome but Sasha throws them a little personal get together in their home.  (It is also an excuse to make a huge amount of _kotlety_ , which Sasha has been craving with a vengeance.)  Jin offers to procure the decorations and arrives early to help Aleksis hang them up (although in reality Jin’s help isn’t really necessary, both due to his wheelchair and to Aleksis’ height).  Soon the Kaidonovsky living room is festooned with red paper hearts of all shapes and sizes, as well as a gigantic cardboard cutout of Gipsy Danger.

As Jin finishes decorating, he notices that the doors to the extra rooms have been left ajar.  He gently shuts the library door, and then wheels over to the other – _the dungeon_ , he recalls with a fascinated shiver.  He begins to pull the door closed, but suddenly he _needs_ to know if Aleksis was kidding – and before he thinks about it more he takes a quick peek inside.

The little white crib in the corner is not what he is expecting. 

Jin sits frozen in delighted realization when an ominous, seven-foot shadow appears over him.  It can be no other than Aleksis, of course.  Jin winces, feeling suddenly _very_ small. Aleksis crosses his arms and studies the shorter man, waiting for his explanation.

“I’m sorry, but I could not help it.  I wanted to see the dungeon.”  Jin smiles sheepishly.  “It is not a dungeon, is it?”

Aleksis sighs.  They should have closed the door earlier, and Sasha had mentioned that she would take care of it, but she’s getting somewhat forgetful these days.  Aleksis does not mind; it is charming to watch (although Sasha would act affronted if he admitted that), and according to _What to Expect When You’re Expecting,_ forgetfulness is fairly common in pregnancy. Aleksis is more concerned about the news spreading, so he stares down at Jin very hard (he notices the Chinese man swallow in apprehension), and speaks very solemnly.  “Do not speak of it to anyone. It is too early, and…if something goes wrong, Sasha will be very hurt.”

Jin’s eyes soften in understanding.  “No one will hear about it from me, until you two announce it officially. I promise.” 

Aleksis grunts in acknowledgement, shutting the door to the nursery and locking it.  As they return to the party, Jin glances back at the closed door and bows his head.  He feels as if he’s glimpsed something sacred and private, and now this secret is a pearl that he guards alone. It has been a long time since he has prayed – he’d lost his faith in any kind of prayer since it had become clear that no amount would bring his brothers back to him.  But now he says a brief, silent prayer for not one, but two couples, wishing them all the happiness they deserve.

And then he says a prayer for himself because, he realizes wryly, a little Kaidonovsky might be too much for all of them to handle.

 

In the fourth month Sasha begins to show.  No one is more delighted than Aleksis. He has always been able to span the width of her hips with just one of his large hands, and now he does so almost every night, as if shielding what grows within.

It makes Sasha feel delighted and miserable at once, because no matter what she does, she cannot bring herself to feel the same way. The bump is alien; it is a hindrance because her clothes don’t fit anymore, and she has to hide in the folds of her coat to maintain their secret, which makes her hot and uncomfortable. The nausea has not abated, and nor have the spells of exhaustion which leave her dozing at her desk at random intervals.  She wonders if Misha and Bella have noticed that she no longer has the energy to play with them every night; whereas before she’d romp with them in the garden each evening, now she simply accepts their licks of affection before handing their leashes to Aleksis, attempting to ignore their cajoling whines.

Now she and Aleksis stand together before their bedroom mirror, and she watches the reflection of Aleksis’ hand moving across her body to caress the little hint of roundness there. To her mortification she feels her eyes filling with tears.  _I have become disgustingly sentimental_ , Sasha thinks, and the resentment that wells up about that, too, only makes her feel worse.

Aleksis has learned not to say anything about her increasingly-frequent tears unless Sasha herself brings it up, so he waits, holding her, until she turns to face him and buries her face in his neck wretchedly.

“I can’t do it,” she whispers. Aleksis presses a kiss to the top of her head and waits for her to continue. She gestures to her belly vaguely. “I thought that once I could see it, I would start thinking of it as anything but an inconvenience,” she confesses.

“It’s alright, little wolf,” he answers softly. She searches for reproach in his voice but finds none.  “Give yourself time.”

“Why do I need more time?  _You_ don’t,” she replies acidly, only to regret the words instantly. She sighs in remorse and leans up to brush her lips across Aleksis’ chin, letting his beard tickle her chin.  He understands the apology and strokes her face, gently wiping away a tear track.

“Will it help if we learn the gender?”

They had refused this piece of information when it had been offered to them at the most recent examination.  Sasha had refused to base the identity of her unborn child solely upon its sex. The other reason that she did not voice was that if something went wrong, it would be easier to lose an _it_ rather than a _he_ or _she._

“No,” she replies. 

It is a lie.  Aleksis knows.  But he doesn’t press the issue, and for that, she is grateful.

 

Two weeks later, Sasha feels so terrible that Aleksis forces her to stay home.  She is nauseated, as usual, but also sweating and shivering simultaneously, and despite having just awoken she feels as if she could sleep for another day. Aleksis tensely interrogates her about her health - no abdominal pains, no back pains, no bleeding – and then flips rapidly through _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ , but does not find what he wants.

“Go to work, Lyosha,” Sasha says, her voice husky from exhaustion.  “I will be alright.”

“Sashenka,” he protests unhappily. 

“Go,” she repeats.  Misha and Bella have nosed open the bedroom door and now they pad over to the bed, crowding around her.  They are not allowed on the bed itself and they know it, but Misha tries his luck by placing a forbidden paw on the mattress. Sasha automatically pushes it off with a firm _no_ to the disappointed dog. She turns her attention back to her husband.  “The dogs will keep me company. I will call the doctor if I feel worse.”

It takes more cajoling than that, but eventually he goes, although not without promises to call often and return early.  As she watches him disappear down the street through the window, she feels strangely anxious.  It is silly – they are so rarely separated even a day.  She is briefly reminded of the day Misha got a thorn in his paw, and had to be taken to the veterinarian alone.  The husky barely noticed the thorn, but when it became evident that Bella would not be accompanying him, Misha had planted his rear and started to howl mournfully for his sister. 

“Silly little bear,” she mutters to the blue-eyed canine, who is resting his head on the covers and peering up at her winsomely.  Bella, a creature of reason by comparison, comes straight to Sasha and bestows an agreeable lick on her hand before settling down on the floor next to the nightstand.  Guarded by the attentive dogs, Sasha gradually dozes off.

She is awakened some time later by a bark.

It is Bella, she knows instantly, but Bella almost never barks, and this is _not_ a friendly bark. Sasha is instantly on alert, her exhaustion evaporating immediately.  Misha and Bella are both growling in the direction of the closed bedroom door.  Sasha slips out of the bed, grabbing the cell phone on the nightstand nearby and quickly scanning the room.  She spots her makeup kit on the counter nearby, and grabs the zippered bag before crouching down beside the bed.

She hears a click as the front door to their apartment opens, and then there’s the shuffling of footsteps – _two people_ , she thinks, from the sound.  Misha starts barking loudly, and the footsteps halt, punctuated by a Cantonese curse.  They’d clearly forgotten about the dogs, she thinks. 

It is the work of no more than a couple of seconds to send a message to Aleksis on the phone.  Then, she crouches and waits, heart pounding loudly in her ears. She rubs a hand over her belly in a nervous gesture.

Misha is still barking his warning bark, right against the door. Suddenly there is a gunshot, and the husky subsides with a surprised whine.  Sasha freezes; Bella growls loudly, but Sasha hushes the shepherd with a soft command.  There is a smoking hole through the top of the door, but Misha is still moving easily so he must be unhurt. The gunman has shot to scare, and she knows it is a message for her, not the dog. 

She calls to Misha softly and he comes to her immediately, licking her fingers briefly before turning around again to face the threat. The footsteps grow louder as they approach the bedroom door.   If she were alone – oh – but there are the dogs, and there is the little one in her belly, and –

It surprises her, the rush of rage that suddenly overtakes her.  How dare they – how dare these strangers break into her home and threaten _her_ child, _her family_ –

When they break the door open, she is ready for them.

Before they get the door even halfway open, a sharp eyeliner pencil has embedded itself straight in the eye of the first assailant, followed quickly by a nail clipper, with the sharp point of the file extended like a knife.  He cries out in pain and falls, clutching at his face; in that time, the two dogs have rushed the second man on Sasha’s command.  Another gunshot sounds, but it strikes the ceiling.  Sasha leaps over the bed and swiftly grabs the handgun out of the first man’s hand.  Without hesitation, she aims and pulls the trigger in a long-familiar motion.  The bullet buries itself in his shoulder and he goes down in a splatter of blood, howling.

There’s a canine yelp of pain as the second assailant slams the butt of his gun on Misha’s head. Sasha’s heart stutters as the gray dog stumbles, but she does not stop moving, reaching to grasp the man’s wrist.  One expertly applied hold and his grip goes slack; she now holds two guns.  She shoots the second man, also in the shoulder, and he crumples.

Misha is snarling, shaking his head; he will be alright, she thinks.  Bella has mangled the second man’s leg.  Sasha does not drop her guard; they might have more weapons concealed. 

She’s covered in splatters of blood, luckily, none of it her own.  It’s ruined the snowy white robe that Aleksis had bought her for Christmas, and this added affront further fuels her anger.  She’s seeing red now, barely able to keep from shooting them both in the head then and there, but she knows that it’s unwise.

“Who the fuck are you?” she hisses, keeping the guns trained on their heads.  If they so much as made a move, she would shoot.

The first man only moans, continuing to clutch at his eye; the second hisses at her. “God-killer!” he spits in accented English.

Kaiju cultists, then.  “Did you come to kill me?  Did you expect to win?” she taunts them, venom dripping from her words. “You didn’t expect to be taken down by a pregnant woman, did you?”

The second assassin’s gaze widens in surprise and then drops down to her belly, where the slight curve is barely visible. “Breeding bitch,” he manages, before he sags again in pain.

There is a commotion down the hallway. She can tell it’s Aleksis from the heavy and familiar pattern of steps; there’s someone with him, too, and it sounds like Raleigh.  In the next moment there is a great crash as Aleksis bursts through the door in a fit of white-hot rage, roaring.  He takes in the sight – his triumphant, blood-splattered wife, a bristling she-wolf holding guns to the heads of her attackers, surrounded by a vanguard of their snarling, protective dogs. As Aleksis looks down upon the two would-be assassins on the floor of their bedroom, he sneers.

Then he leans over, grabs each one by a bleeding shoulder, and smashes their heads together.

Raleigh stares from the doorway in shock.  Sasha belatedly notices that he’s got a handgun.  “Well, I guess you were just fine on your own,” he manages.  “Remind me _never_ to get you angry.”

Sasha barely registers the words.  The fevered rage is slowly receding from Aleksis’ eyes, and he drops the two unconscious attackers with a careless _thump._ “Sashenka,” he gasps.  “I was afraid – “

In two steps she’s in his arms and he’s kissing her so hard it makes her dizzy, and to her utter frustration her eyes begin to leak tears _again._ His hands run over her face, her shoulders, her back, and then her belly.

“Did they – ?”

“No,” Sasha answers immediately.  “They did not harm me or the baby.”

From where he’s crouched, patting the dogs and examining Misha’s injury, Raleigh turns so quickly he almost falls back onto his rear.  “Baby?”

Sirens are sounding from outside, and dimly through the window she notices police cars pulling up to the curb.  Aleksis is murmuring her name, over and over again, and she feels the familiar and beloved bulk of him close against her, and tastes his desperation and love in his kiss, and finally lets herself sag in relief.

Her fingers glide tentatively over her belly.  _I did it,_ she thinks, giddily. _Kept you safe, malishka._

And suddenly, it happens: her heart begins to hurt, with the sweetest, deepest, most tender ache she’s ever felt, and she begins to sob – with joy and relief combined – because it’s over, and she knows without a doubt now that she will not be a failure of a mother because she will do anything – _anything –_ to keep the little one within her safe.


	9. Chapter 9

Aleksis will not take chances, despite her protests that she is alright.  So Sasha gets taken straight to the hospital while their apartment is taken over by policemen and PPDC investigators.  Her unconscious attackers are hauled off for medical care and questioning, and Raleigh volunteers to take the dogs for the night.  He and Mako have cared for them before, and he promises that he’ll have a vet examine Misha, although the bump is most likely not serious. Misha is very hard-headed, after all.

At the hospital, an examination reveals nothing of concern except a low fever, but Sasha is kept overnight for observation to monitor her “stress response”.  After years fighting kaiju Sasha doubts that one foiled assassination attempt will faze her too much, but for the sake of the baby she acquiesces and takes the opportunity to rest while Aleksis disappears to direct the cleanup efforts at home.

Sometime later she awakens to the sensation of a large hand stroking her hair, and another over her belly.  Aleksis is hovering over her, and when he realizes that she is awake, he lowers his head apologetically and tells her to go back to sleep.  In response she shifts over to make room for him on the hospital bed, knowing that it is probably a lost cause because he’s too large to fit.  He tries anyway, and she ultimately ends up on top of him, resting against his shoulder.

“I have asked Raleigh to keep our secret, for a little longer,” Aleksis says.  “So we will have a couple more weeks of peace.”

“Mako will know.”

“Jin already found out,” Aleksis adds. Sasha raises an eyebrow.  “And we should tell Herc soon.”  He frowns. “The more people, the more likely it will get out into the news.”

“Not from our friends. More likely that someone at this hospital will leak it.”

“Mm. I have already threatened the doctor.”

There will be no end of annoyances from the media, Sasha thinks, and a whole other flood of fan mail.  More worrisome is the possibility that others will see her as a target – or perhaps not, after she had so utterly defeated the two intruders.  But she suspects that they had not acted independently.  The PPDC had certainly monitored the cult, but had not believed that they would have been so brazen so as to actually make an attempt on a life.  After this, there would certainly be new measures to ensure that this did not happen again.

She wonders why they would have targeted her first, when Jin, in his wheelchair, would have been a much more obvious target.  _Probably because I am a woman,_ she thinks with some irritation.  _They will think again, now._

“It does not matter,” she says softly, against Aleksis’ neck. “We will keep our family safe.”

She registers her husband’s soft noise of agreement, and closes her eyes, feeling that veil of pregnancy-induced fatigue slowly drawing over her again.  Aleksis pulls the coverlet over her shoulders and wraps his arms around her waist and torso, slowly rocking her.  It is something he does without thinking, and Sasha smiles at the thought of him rocking their child one day.

Just as she is almost asleep, she feels the little movement.

It’s almost nothing –a soft little hiccup, or a bubble nudging her ever-so-slightly before popping.  But it’s there, and so _strange_ that Sasha laughs aloud.  Aleksis glances at her curiously as she sits up on his lap, and his expression turns to anticipation as she takes his large hand and places it over the spot where she’d felt it. “Come on, malishka.  Do it again for papa.”

Aleksis looks at her, startled. “Sashenka,” he murmurs, voice lined with tenderness.  They wait for a few moments, patiently, and the little hiccup happens again.

“There. Did you feel it?”

Aleksis shakes his head, but he is smiling nonetheless. “It was just for you,” he says, and Sasha knows he understands.

 

Sasha is released the next morning and they go back home.  They receive a stream of visits, in the next few days. First, Raleigh and Mako with the dogs, who greet them as if they have been gone for a whole month rather than a mere day.  Mako is no less ecstatic, throwing her arms around Sasha.  “Hello, mama!” she exclaims cheerfully, and it is _strange_ to Sasha, to hear that word voiced and know it refers to herself.  Mako has brought over dumplings, which Sasha eyes hungrily, and the two couples share a meal.

“I’d wondered why you stopped drinking,” Raleigh admits.  “But since Aleksis did the same, I didn’t think it was…well… _that._ ”  He is laughably uncomfortable referring to the pregnancy itself, which makes Sasha wonder how he will react when he and Mako eventually take this step for themselves.

Not long after they leave, the doorbell rings and it’s their landlady, who bursts into tears right on their doorstep because she’s _so sorry_ that the attackers had stolen the master keys from her office to get into their home.  She promises that she’s going to change all the keys in the building, and there will be a security guard, and cameras, and many other measures that, Sasha knows, will not deter someone truly meaning to do them harm.  But she comforts the landlady and assures her that there is no blame.  She does, however, accept the offer of several months’ free rent – because why not?

Inevitably there’s a visit from Herc and Jin – the former blaming himself for oversight regarding the cult, and the latter offering the services of his old gang to patrol the neighborhood.  Herc looks even more upset with himself when Sasha gently breaks the news about the child, but he is genuinely delighted for them, to the point where he excuses himself and leaves the room.  Later, Sasha sees him in their library, staring out the window at the sea, eyes closed and head bowed. 

There was a time when she wouldn’t have hesitated to go to him, but now things are different. Childless, she could console him as an equal, but now her body harbors a blessing that draws the gulf wider between them. She stands in the doorway, torn, until she hears Aleksis calling for her.

 

During this time, the media is in a firestorm.  First, there is the news of cultist assassins breaking into the Kaidonovsky apartment and being thoroughly beaten by a sick woman and two dogs.  There is a strong current of pride in Russia, that Sasha embodies the stoic, unflagging strength of the nation as a whole – until an enterprising American journalist wondering about where exactly Sasha had learned to nail an attacker in the eyeball with an eyeliner pencil digs up the fact that before she was the celebrated Jaeger pilot Lieutenant S. Kaidonovsky, she had been a street criminal known only as Aleksandra.

It is a situation that upsets Sasha more than the assassination attempt itself. ‘Street criminal’ did not even begin to describe the life she had endured: orphaned, found by a kindly woman who ended up being the madam of a brothel, escaping that life to be found by yet another stranger who had seen the potential in her skinny, too-tall body and had fed her, trained her, and honed her as a weapon of seduction. 

The third time Aleksandra escaped, at age 18, was to the military.  Her recruiter, an elderly veteran named Mikhail Grekov, had witnessed a young girl’s abuse at the hands of her old master several times, but had been unable to intervene.  Finally, one night, in the dark alleyways of Grozny he’d defended her, killing her tormenter and freeing her. Grekov then spent the next five months rehabilitating the angry young woman into someone that society could respect.  He was not warm, but he was fair, and firm, and the closest thing to a parent that she’d ever had.  So Aleksandra molded herself in his image, and at the end, with his approval, she’d taken his name – Aleksandra Mikhailovna Grekovna – because she’d had none herself.

Four years and dozens of letters later, it was with stunned disbelief that she’d watched the footage of the kaiju Trespasser making landfall in San Francisco, where Mikhail had been vacationing. A lifelong runner, he’d wanted to jog across the Golden Gate Bridge that morning. There was no chance – he was gone.  And it wasn’t until she’d seen the posters recruiting volunteers to fight this menace that Aleksandra had found the outlet for her rage.

The reporters don’t understand, of course. They want to know the sordid details.  She will _not_ give a press conference; she will _not_ go on TV.  She does not want anything to do with it, because that part is _over_ , and _can’t they understand?_

Aleksis cannot help her; as her partner, he is as much an object of intrigue as she.  But he knows who can.  It takes only a day to hatch the plan, and when they are ready, it is charismatic Jin who holds the press conference.  Jin, who sits tall in the wheelchair that he will be in for the rest of his life; Jin, who himself was a street fighter; Jin, who understands.

In somber, soft words to a rapt crowd of reporters, Jin speaks not of Aleksandra but of Sasha, the stunning hero that has felled half a dozen kaiju and shouldered the burden of defending an entire nation. “That is one Sasha that you already know,” Jin continues, “but do you know the other Sasha?”  This Sasha was the sometimes-mischievous friend that had lit up a path that Jin had thought would be forever dark.  This Sasha appeared in Jin’s hospital room with a surprise tin of mooncakes for the Mid-Autumn Festival that Jin himself had forgotten; this Sasha had been the first to embrace Mako after her and Raleigh’s engagement announcement; this Sasha had forged a future out of the ashes of a destroyed life.

“In the days after I first woke up, alone, I wondered what I was doing here,” Jin confesses. The room is quiet, rapt, attentive. “I am sure all of us pilots who survived have wondered this.  We are soldiers.  We are trained to fight kaiju until we kill them or they kill us.  But the enemy is gone, and while the rest of the world moves forward, we are stuck battling ghosts in our heads.  The world no longer needs us. Perhaps, I thought often, it would have been easier to die.

“In those times, I looked to Sasha and Aleksis.  They, too, were broken, but they were the ones that forged most brightly ahead.  Perhaps they too were not supposed to survive.  Who survives a nuclear explosion underwater?  But they did.” Jin pauses, as if in thought, before continuing. “Did you know they’re the only ones who’ve been brave enough to move out of their dorms at the Shatterdome? It’s like the rest of us are still living with our parents, too afraid to move out.”  There is a scattering of teary laughter in the press room as Jin smiles sheepishly.  “They are brave enough to _live,_ and we all follow their example.”

There is a moment of silence before the room breaks out in thunderous applause.  And then, the coup.  “And now,” Jin says, quietly, causing the room to hush once more, “they are taking the next step in that life together.  They are expecting their first child in just a few months.”

There’s a storm of noise as everyone gasps.

“Please honor them as heroes, and more importantly, respect them as people like yourselves. And of course, please give them your best wishes as they embark upon this new journey together.”

It works, of course.  In that instant, the media entirely forgets the intrigue about Sasha’s past and seizes upon that nugget.  The papers are filled with speculation of a different kind.  In some way the attention is even worse, but it is at least in a positive direction.  And in the days that follow, Jin’s gangster family proves invaluable in dealing with the reporters and paparazzi that attempt to invade the Kaidonovsky apartment (including the one that unsuccessfully tries to scale the fire escape).

 

At the beginning of the sixth month, the symptoms vanish.  It is as stark a difference as that between summer and winter; Sasha simply wakes up one morning, refreshed and reinvigorated. No nausea, no fatigue, nothing but the mild strain on her back muscles that she is growing accustomed to. There is one other difference, which has her nudging insistently at her sleeping husband.

It takes Aleksis but a moment to awaken.  “Hungry, little wolf?” he asks with a lazy smile, and she exhales a lust-filled moan that has him rising eagerly to pin her underneath him.  There is a quiet moment where he simply looks at her, admiring the changes that have lent a soft lushness to her form. Then he lavishes his attention on her face and neck, scraping his teeth along her skin the way he knows she likes, while his large hands press firmly along her lower back, soothing the ache there even as he arouses her in other ways. 

The whine of a neglected dog interrupts them.  From beside the bed, Misha and Bella are watching raptly, the latter tilting her head back and forth in curiosity.  Misha whines again, hoping for attention.

“No spectators,” Sasha laughs.  “ _Out._ ”

This time, the whine is of disappointment; they know “out” and they do not like it.  Aleksis rises to shoo the dogs out the bedroom door.  They plant themselves stubbornly just outside the threshold.

“I am sorry,” Aleksis says to them gravely.  “There are some things children should never see their parents do.” Then he shuts the door firmly on the two confused faces and returns to his laughing, beautiful wife.

The affronted whining does not stop, but they do not notice.


	10. Chapter 10

With the Kaidonovskys’ secret out in a very public way, baby mania seizes the Shatterdome.  There are pools, and cards, and vodka shots, and a lot of knitted items that appear in Sasha and Aleksis’ office.  Over the next few weeks Sasha receives so many Cherno Alpha onesies knitted with varying levels of skill that she swears her child could probably wear nothing else for the first three months of its life. 

Sasha is initially uncomfortable with the attention, but eventually gives in – because this was her first child, and who knew if they would ever be blessed with another?  She does lay down some rules, however.  No touching.  The first idiotic stranger who reaches out without permission to rub her belly as if it is public property nearly gets a fractured wrist for his trouble.  After that, word spreads rather quickly. Sasha also makes it clear that she does not want to discuss how she’s feeling, or how big she’s gotten, or any detail about her body with strangers.  Pregnancy is absurd, she thinks with mingled smugness and disgust, as a woman that she’s never spoken to before flees the elevator after attempting to engage Sasha in a discussion about her navel.  Her _navel._ Really? Did she deserve no privacy now that she was carrying a child?

The last rule is simple.  No pastels.  She and Aleksis certainly do not favor those shades, and besides she has read that bright, high-contrast colors are better for developing the child’s eyesight.  Why the entire baby product industry has chosen to ignore this fact is beyond her, but she is determined that their child will have every advantage she can offer it.  So, no pastels.

There is the inevitable baby shower. From the people of the Shatterdome, Sasha receives a variety of frivolous infant clothing that she knows will be obsolete within three weeks of the child’s birth, and toys that the baby will not be able to meaningfully appreciate until at least four months after.  The gifts from the ex-Rangers are much better. Mako and Raleigh supply a colorful, dangling mobile for the crib as well as plenty of gadgets – like a puppy-shaped device that plays water noises to mimic the sounds of the womb.  The most valuable of their presents is a standing offer to babysit. “You may regret this later on,” Sasha teases, “but you cannot take it back.”

Jin bestows upon them a collection of classical music for babies, along with a pair of ‘belly buds’, which Sasha finds highly amusing. He warns them not to subject the child to Ukranian hard house in utero. “You will ruin the baby’s ears with that awful music!”

And Herc – being the only one of them who has actually had a child – gives them what he knows they’ll need most: diapers.  Boxes and boxes of diapers.

 

The last months pass by more quickly than Sasha had ever expected – a blur of anticipation and excitement and, inevitably, growing discomfort as her belly expands and seems to take over her entire body, from her ankles (swollen) to her brain (scattered).  It’s as if she’s bursting from within her own skin; even her navel has bubbled outward, and the funny little protrusion is an everlasting source of amusement for her husband.

But she doesn’t mind so much anymore the indignities of her condition; they are signs of what is to come.  The appointments have been routine; the child is healthy, and now they’ve crossed that line where even if it comes early it will most likely survive.  There is no more holding the truth at bay for fear; this is a reality that she must embrace fully.  It is easier now than before, but that doesn’t make it _easy_.

They’ve made arrangements for the birth to occur in a nearby birthing center adjacent to a hospital, where Sasha will be most comfortable but where they are close to medical treatment if it comes to that.  (They’ve also quelled some discontent from Moscow that its heroes’ first child will not actually be born in Russia, but Sasha, now wielding diplomacy like a blade, negotiates dual citizenship successfully.) 

Among the disarray of doctors’ appointments and nursery shopping and reading baby book after baby book in a futile effort to feel prepared, the moments she prizes most are the ones when they are alone – she and Aleksis, curled up on the bed or the couch together, with their child between them.  The little one moves so often now, often keeping Sasha awake at night; a pert kick here, a sudden jab there, and once Aleksis even glimpses the imprint of a little foot for just a moment against Sasha’s skin.  Aleksis spends many evenings talking to the child, his mouth pressed against the hard roundness, his deep voice rumbling through Sasha’s skin. Sasha cannot bring herself to voice her thoughts to the child quite yet, but Aleksis hears them sometimes in the Drift.  They still Drift together (despite the protests of the scientists) and Aleksis is probably the first man in the world who truly understands what it is like to carry a child – the joy and the suffering alike.

Sasha cannot deny now, despite the trials of this whole process, that there’s a part of her that wants to keep the baby in there – where it’s safe, where it’s a nudging little presence and nothing more: all sweetness and possibility. Even as months eight and nine draw by, and she grows larger and more unwieldy than she ever imagined, and even as she’s kept awake at night for hours because she just can’t seem to find the right way to get comfortable, there’s the strange serenity in being what she is now.  She cannot help her apprehension of the time to come because she will change from woman to _mother_ and they will be no longer just a couple but a _family_ – and she is still, after all these months, not ready.

These are the thoughts of any first time mother, Aleksis assures her.  And her baby certainly does not take them into consideration. One night, Sasha awakens to Aleksis’ snores and to back pains, and somehow knows that this time is different – and that it’s time.  _It’s time._

 

There’s a detached sort of tranquility as she paces the length of their living room, as she has for a few hours now, unable to return to sleep.  She’s dozed through the first, weak waves of discomfort but now it is dawn.  The dogs are with her, for now; they will go to Mako and Raleigh later in the day until they can come back home to meet their new charge.  Aleksis sleeps yet; Sasha lets him rest because she knows that in just a few hours, he will need to be her pillar of strength.

Inevitably it is not long before he rises on his own, missing her, only to discover her breathing through a rolling discomfort that is rising in intensity.  Aleksis does not panic; he knows what to do.  He supports her as she leans into him for relief, and works to soothe her when he can.  In between, they walk together, endless circles around their home.  Their anticipation is betrayed only by Sasha’s tight grip on her husband’s fingers, and the soft words that they speak to each other in between each interval: hopes and dreams and plans, all slowly spiraling into fruition on this day.

The discomfort grows with time.  Sitting on a birthing ball helps for but a while, and as Sasha shifts and moves instinctively to seek what will provide her the greatest relief, Aleksis draws a bath, making sure that it is not too hot.  He guides his wife into it, mindful of her clumsy, swollen body, and it feels so wonderful that she’s muttering that she swears she’s going to stay right here, and their baby will be born in a bathroom if she can help it.

They count the pains together, Aleksis timing them patiently as Sasha bears them through.  As she tires, he feeds her spoonfuls of honey. Sometime afterward, she loses awareness of her surroundings and closes her eyes, as if withdrawing into herself.  It’s as if she’s focusing all her energy inward, and Aleksis stays with her, continuing to time the pains by the patterns in his wife’s breathing.

Finally he rouses her, because it’s time to go.  The drive is agonizing; every little bump jolts her like an earthquake and she’s whispering _Lyosha, please, slower_ and he’s going as slow as he can until they’re at a crawl.  Dr. Li meets them, squeezing Sasha’s hand, and whisks them off for a brief examination.  The kindly doctor has been there from the very beginning, when this child was but a dream, and now she is there to see them through the end. 

After a word from Aleksis they put her back in a birthing tub.  It’s different though, from the familiar tub at home – deeper – and as she sinks down awkwardly, there’s a moment of panic when she’s reminded of drowning – _no, Lyosha –_ and she begins to thrash in distress.  Aleksis kneels next to the birthing tub, large hands running over her limbs and under the water to stroke her belly.  “Easy, Sashenka,” he whispers, the Russian words soothing her. “I’m here.  We’re together.”

He stays with her, sitting on a stool next to the edge of the tub.  They touch at all times, and she’s only vaguely aware of the doctor because it’s so hard to focus on anything but her body’s struggle and her husband’s presence right at her shoulder.  All too soon it’s becoming too much, and she grits her teeth against it.  She’s a senseless creature of pain, but she does not cry out; instead Sasha begs Aleksis to _talk_ – she needs the distraction like a beacon in a storm; a lifeline as she’s tossed upon an angry sea.  She can’t get to the air, she’s going to suffocate, she’s alone – but he’s there, speaking to her, large hands submerged in the water to spread over the wideness of her belly, comforting both her and their child. 

He’s talking about the memories that she’s seen dozens of times now, but that they treasure no less; he glimpses a woman in the mess hall, the white-blonde hair shocking among a sea of dark heads; she turns and she’s all sharp glares and red lips and there’s a jolt through his heart because he thinks he’s glimpsed a she-wolf, beautiful and _dangerous_.  The night after their first failed Drift she’s there with him, _finally_ , and through the din of his pounding heart he can barely believe it, that he’s closed the chasm between them. And they grow together, over time, like two trees whose roots have entangled to become one.  His stammering proposal the night after their first kaiju kill, when he realizes how likely it is that they will die, and if he dies he wants to die as her husband. Their secret wedding on the first day of a blizzard, when the snowflakes make a glistening crown in Sasha’s hair; the endless and eternal moments they share together, and now this, this crucial turning point in their journey.

Near the end she’s somehow moved out of the tub and back onto a bed – she thinks Aleksis must have carried her because at this point there’s no way she could have moved on her own. The doctor is encouraging her and she’s bearing down through a ring of fire, and it is the first time Sasha cries out during the fourteen-hour ordeal.  She cannot help a few curses, and Aleksis suppresses a smile, and she almost snaps at him for it because _you’ll see, Lyosha, in a few weeks we’ll be Drifting and you’ll be happy you’re not the one going through this_ but moments later her anger drains as he runs an ice chip over her heated lips, and she accepts it with relief.

It’s so much, too much, and it lasts and lasts and lasts. But at one point, when the pain is worst, Aleksis gently guides her hand down between her legs, and there’s a jolt of surprise as she feels the soft, damp head of their little one emerging slowly from her.  It gives her the strength she needs for the last minutes when there’s nothing but excruciating hurt and unbearable pressure and the strain on her voice from crying out and Aleksis’ deep rumble telling her _Yes, Sashenka, yes – just like that –_

And then there’s a great, deep _surge_ and it’s over.

Sasha feels completely empty from the waist down.  She strains to glimpse the baby, and in the doctor’s hands rests a red-faced, squirming little thing, startled and whimpering at being launched into a strange new world. 

“A daughter,” she hears Aleksis whisper, awe in his voice. The doctor places the little female on Sasha’s belly, and Sasha reaches down to touch the tiny, slippery limbs.  There’s a shrill, angry little cry as the infant lets loose a breath, and Sasha can’t help it; she’s sobbing, and Aleksis is shaking, eyes shining with tears, and his large hands join hers – his hands, almost as big as the baby – to soothe their child, still connected to her mother.  Suddenly Sasha is worried that her daughter must be cold, and she gently draws the small body towards her, tucking her child hesitantly into the crook of her arm, as Aleksis enfolds them both in his.

She does not remember much of what happens after, but that soon the child is lifted, and the cord cut carefully by the nervous father, and there’s a period of distracted, anxious, exhausted waiting while Dr. Li works between her legs. But Sasha’s restless, her arms feeling unexpectedly empty, needing to see and hold the little one again.  Finally, _finally,_ the baby’s brought back.  They give her back in a pink blanket and there’s a little white hat over her head to keep her warm. Dr. Li is saying something about the baby being big at 4.3 kilograms, but that’s a lie because in Sasha’s arms she’s so _small,_ and even smaller later cradled lovingly and awkwardly in the arms of her father _._ Little hands, little curling feet, downy skin so _soft_ Sasha can’t believe it, and two large, dark, unfocused eyes staring up around her.

Nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared her for this, Sasha thinks, looking down at the little, precious stranger in her arms.

They name her _Darya_ , for the sea – in honor of both what it has taken and what it has given. Darya Alekseyvna Kaidonovskaya.


	11. Chapter 11

There is an old Russian superstition about not letting anyone but family see a new baby for forty days after its birth.  Sasha knows it’s stupid and antiquated, but it’s also so tempting. In the days after her daughter’s arrival Sasha feels as if she’s floating in a haze of joy, even as her body recovers from the physical ordeal of the birth.  There is nothing she wants more than to hide herself away with Aleksis and the baby, like wolves in a secret den.

During her pregnancy, Sasha had promised herself that she would never become one of those doting, insipid mothers, but now, with Darya – called Dasha – here in her arms, that resolution seems so uninformed and cold-hearted.  Their new pediatrician, Dr. Feng (who happens to be Dr. Li’s mother), says that Dasha is a very agreeable baby, and that the Kaidonovskys are rather lucky.  Indeed, Dasha doesn’t seem to cry all that much, instead preferring to nap or peer curiously around her, eyes occasionally going unfocused (normal for babies, Dr. Feng promised).  But when the little girl’s face does scrunch up, it’s an expression of utter heartbreak, and Sasha can’t help but make the soft, soothing noises that are so instinctive to mothers.

She does hold onto some modicum of maternal self-respect though; there is no desire to dress her daughter up in any of nauseatingly cute animal-themed outfits that she had been gifted by her Shatterdome colleagues during the baby shower. It is the downside to living in an Asian country, Sasha thinks ruefully – Russians have far more dignity.  Or perhaps not – one morning Aleksis steals his daughter away and returns her to her mother proudly outfitted in one of her many Cherno Alpha onesies. Sasha acts affronted, but later admit that the sight is appealing – somewhere between hilarious and adorable.

Dasha is the center of their world now.  Sometimes when the infant is asleep, Sasha hovers over the crib, unable to pull herself away.  There’s something hypnotically soothing about the sight of her child, curled up peacefully with her fist tucked under her chin, and so Sasha always lingers longer than she should, ignoring the rational part of her that tells her she should be taking this opportunity to catch up on much-needed sleep. 

She has never, ever felt this way – never so utterly trapped and transfixed by anything in her life. There has never been another who relies upon her so wholly – not even Aleksis, who has his own core of strength to match hers.  No – it’s different with Dasha.  Even as an infant who spends most of her time nursing and crying and soiling her diaper, Dasha seems to know her mother, growing calmest when she’s resting against Sasha’s breast, listening to a heartbeat she’s heard all her life.  And Sasha is tied to this little stranger forever and ever, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating and exhausting all at once.

There’s the sound of the door opening, and it’s Aleksis joining her.  He greets her with a whiskery kiss, caressing the nape of her neck briefly before putting his arm around her waist.  She never imagined that she could love her husband more than she already did, but in the week after the birth he’s been an absolute godsend.  He takes diaper duty without complaint, and wakes up to attend to Dasha’s cries to enable Sasha to sleep – unless it becomes clear that Dasha is hungry, of course. Aleksis is a natural father, as she knew he’d be, and as utterly in love with their little one as she is.

“Can you believe, husband, that we created something so beautiful?” Sasha whispers, as they stand over the crib, looking down.

He laughs. “I can believe she came from you.” Aleksis is not handsome; rather, he is all brute strength.  From what they can tell, their daughter favors her mother, except for her hair, which is as dark as Aleksis’ natural sable. 

“She gets her personality from you, clearly,” Sasha reminds him. “Not angry like me.”

Aleksis turns back to his wife, hand rising to stroke her face.  “Are you still so angry, little wolf?”

“No.”  Not anymore – she’s as happy as she’s ever been, like the moment when she’d achieved a perfect, stable Drift with Aleksis for the first time and knew instinctively that this was her partner, or when they’d snuck out to be married, her heavy coat concealing her wedding dress.

Dasha stirs in the crib below them before opening her large, dark eyes.  With a soft hum, Sasha lifts the child and cradles her close.  When the little girl begins to root against her mother’s breast, it becomes quite clear what she wants, and Sasha obliges.

“You must live for her now,” Aleksis says, suddenly, as he watches their child contentedly take her nourishment from her mother.

Sasha freezes.  “Lyosha,” she protests. As if sensing the tension, Dasha unlatches and puckers her lips in that little expression that is the prelude to tears.  Sasha murmurs to the child in Russian – _don’t cry, malishka –_ and rocks her soothingly, before returning her to her breast.

The whole time, though, she is distracted by Aleksis’ words.  He is breaking their death pact, the promise that they’ve always held in their hearts that they would live together, or not at all.  It is bittersweet now because before, it was so simple.  Sasha has only ever had allegiance to one person at a time, and now it is the first time in her life that her heart has been so tenderly cloven in two. 

But that was an old promise, made between desperate lovers in a world full of monsters.  Now, things are different.  She looks down at the face of her daughter, and knows that they can never be so selfish again.

No matter what happened now to one of them, the other would live. She reaches up to kiss her husband and knows that he reads her understanding.

“You too, Lyosha,” she answers. “You, too.”

 

After a week alone, they are ready for visits from their friends.  Raleigh and Mako first, with their ecstatic dogs.  Aleksis has been preparing the two canines by bringing them Dasha’s clothing to sniff, and the fact that they are both impeccably trained helps the transition some, but Sasha can’t help but be a little nervous.  Luckily there is nothing to worry about, although the dogs do take some time to investigate the apartment closely, and crowd around the nursery door. It is Misha who seems most confused, but the husky acquiesces to Aleksis’ command to stay outside the nursery, although he tends to sit outside and linger curiously. In a matter of days, though, both dogs grow accustomed to the little child’s presence and come to see her as one of their own. They’re eventually allowed to keep the infant company by lying on the floor around the crib.  Misha seems to comprehend Dasha on a personal level, howling in commiseration when he hears her cries begin, and Sasha has to train him out of the habit because the combined noise is too much to handle.

Mako has been waiting patiently to see them all week, and her excitement is tempered into hushed awe when the little girl is finally placed in her arms.  “Oh,” she breathes, “Hello, Dasha-chan.”  The baby obliges her visitor by reaching up towards the blue tips of Mako’s hair, and the Japanese woman can’t help but coo in response, adoration in her gaze. Raleigh is a little more awkward, holding the child tightly as if he’s afraid he’ll drop her, but he surprises them all by muttering a few phrases in Russian to her.  After a few minutes, when Dasha begins to make some distressed noises, Raleigh is more than happy to surrender the baby back to Sasha, but there’s a grin on his face that he can’t help.

“She’s beautiful.  Nice job,” he adds, cheekily. Then, sounding somewhat puzzled, he confesses, “I sort of expected her to be blonde.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. Hiding a smile, she busies herself with soothing her daughter and pretends not to see Mako’s look of longing – and Raleigh’s answering smile, full of promises.

 

Jin is the next, arriving the next day, eager to claim his privilege as an ‘uncle’. He spends the time cheerfully rocking the girl and singing a Chinese lullaby which seems to bemuse the girl at first before finally taking hold. Dasha falls asleep after about ten minutes in his arms, and Aleksis goes to put the baby down in the crib.

“So how are things?” Sasha asks, slyly.  There have been some silly rumors going around regarding Jin’s love life, as usual, although Sasha knows that the longest liaison he’s had is still charmingly platonic and conducted via written letters.  Anna’s turned 19 – not so young anymore – but Jin is 28, and the span of nine years is still wide.

Jin sighs.  “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks discomfited, and then embarrassed, lowering his voice.  “I don’t know what to do, with Anna.  She’s so wonderful – but I can’t –“ He breaks off, making a frustrated noise.  “How do I know her?  How can I trust her?”

Sasha frowns.  “Have you not been writing to her for _two years_?”

Jin sighs.  “You don’t understand.  Aleksis – you know him and you trust him, because you two have Drifted together.  There are no questions between you.”  He gestures helplessly at his legs, amputated at the knee. “But this – no woman in her right mind would want to bear this burden. How can I know that she would do so without resentment? How can I know her heart without the Drift?”

Amidst a bit of surprise that Jin had come to feel this strongly – and a bit of satisfaction at being the matchmaker – Sasha understands the problem. In many ways, Jin is struggling with the same issues as anyone in love – he is contemplating a leap of faith made far greater by the obstacle of his disability.  It’s daunting on its own – and even worse when Jin’s basis for comparison is the relationship he’d had with his brothers, a relationship built in the womb, strengthened through shared lives – and then steeped in the Drift.

There had been big advancements in the Drift technology, and some movement towards making it available for some civilian uses – although nothing as large-scale as a Jaeger.  Regardless, the Drift was certainly not for everyone; it had destroyed relationships before, and would undoubtedly do so again.  There was no room for dishonesty; not even for small untruths told with the kindest of intentions.  Jin would likely never share a Drift session with Anna, or any other potential life partner – at least, not until they were willing to risk everything to attain that deepest kind of understanding.

But he didn’t have to.

“You cannot replace what you had with your brothers,” Sasha begins quietly.  “Do not try to do it with her, or anyone else.  It…” she hesitates.  “It dishonors her.” They share a moment of silence before Sasha continues. “No good relationship is built upon the Drift,” she adds, echoing the advice she’d given to Mako long ago. “You build strength based on what you experience together. You must find a way to trust her and know her on your own. Aleksis and I… This is why our marriage is successful. We are strong without the Drift, not because of it.”

Aleksis steps out to rejoin them, wordlessly bringing Sasha a glass of water on his way. She accepts it with a look of gratitude; being a nursing mother makes her thirsty, sometimes without her realizing it.

Jin studies their interaction, recognizing the bone-deep knowledge of each other reflected in every movement. He’d had that, long ago.  And perhaps he’d never have it again, but…

“You two are so lucky,” he says, quietly.

Aleksis takes his wife’s hand and squeezes it gently. “Yes,” he agrees. “We are.”

 

On the last day before Aleksis is due to return to work at the Shatterdome, they finally get a visit from Herc.  There is the predictably enthusiastic greeting from Max who promptly bounds off with a woof of joy to greet Misha and Bella. Sasha and Aleksis have brought their two pets to the Shatterdome before, and so the three dogs are well acquainted with one another. (A _lot_ of food tends to goes missing when the three are united; Sasha swears they conspire.)

Herc apologizes, sheepishly, for taking so long to visit.  He and Raleigh have been covering for Sasha and Aleksis, of course, in their absence. “It’ll be good to have you back, mate.” Herc smiles at the taller man. Sasha has several more weeks before she’s required to be back, but is thinking of cutting her leave short.  There’s no reason she can’t bring Dasha along, anyway.  She runs the idea by Herc briefly, who looks a bit startled at first, as if he’s never thought of it, but acquiesces immediately. “Of course! Children should be with their parents as much as they can.”

There is a brief silence afterward that Herc interrupts with a nervous cough.

“Would you like to meet her?” Sasha asks gently.

“Yes!  Yes,” Herc says, genuinely. “I would love to.”

They enter the nursery, where Dasha had been sleeping.  The commotion of the dogs has awoken her, but she’s quiet, gazing up at the mobile above her crib.  Dasha’s recently discovered her own hands and feet, and in the last couple of days Sasha’s found her daughter contentedly sucking on a fistful of fingers (and once, her toes).  It’s how she finds the baby now. The little girl turns her head in response to the sound of Sasha’s voice, and burbles softly.  Sasha coos back, expediently wiping baby spittle off the tiny, grasping hand, before picking the child up – how much she’s already grown in one month, Sasha thinks, a little sadly – and presenting her to Herc.

There’s a moment where Herc simply looks at her, and there’s this distant, unexplainable look in his eyes, before he reaches forward to take Dasha in a fluid, careful motion informed by much practice, long ago.  Dasha, so far unafraid of strangers, rests calmly against his shoulder and reaches out to touch Herc’s chin, exploring the fuzzy texture of the short red beard, so unlike her father’s.

“Wow,” Herc says, studying Dasha’s face.  The little girl has a funny look of concentration as she touches the stubble on the Marshal’s chin. “What a gorgeous little girl. Congratulations.”

Aleksis reaches forward to take Dasha back, and the child settles comfortably in her father’s arm with a little grunt.  Herc can’t help but watch the tall, intimidating-looking giant of a man gently bouncing his daughter up and down, murmuring Russian endearments to her.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Herc says, softly, “to have you both as her parents.” And he turns, abruptly, but Sasha catches the glimpse of the old Marshal’s expression – holding back tears.  “You’ll always let her know, won’t you?”

Sasha puts her hand on his arm, comforting.  “Always.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath but when he turns back, it’s with a smile.  “Good.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

It is strange how differently time passes once you have a child, how suddenly she becomes the star around which your world revolves.  Once, Sasha had measured the weeks and months by training sessions and kaiju kills. Nowadays the rhythm has shifted, and what she remembers best are the small achievements that mark her daughter’s growth.  Dasha’s first smile, bestowed in the soft gray light of a rainy morning; Dasha’s first bubbly laugh, which Sasha and Aleksis spend the evening coaxing from her again and again because they’ve never heard such a wonderful sound.  They immortalize those moments not only in countless photographs and videos, but also between them in the Drift.

There’s no doubt in Sasha’s heart that her daughter is a blessing, but she does not anticipate the other gifts that grow out of their life together.  Seeing Aleksis with their baby each day is one of Sasha’s greatest joys; there is no sight more peaceful than that of her big bear of a husband with their child curled up against his massive chest, her head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, as he reads to her from a storybook until she falls asleep.

In motherhood, Sasha discovers within herself a selflessness that she has never known. Dasha is surrounded by those who love her, and Sasha has sworn that her daughter will never want for anything.  As the girl grows, there’s a part of Sasha that can’t help but wait for some kernel of bitterness, some shade of resentment to unveil itself, as she bestows upon her daughter the childhood that she herself never had.  And it’s not as if she’s always walking around in a state of bliss because raising a child isn’t easy – far from it, especially when their baby is crying and she doesn’t know why and just feels so _helpless_. But she could never have imagined that it would be so natural to love the little stranger that has come into their lives. How could it be so easy?

When he sees her thinking these thoughts, Aleksis simply pulls her close and presses a whiskery kiss to her forehead.  “You’re her mother,” he says, as if that is the whole explanation.  And perhaps it is.

 

The seasons turn; time passes.  Dasha blooms before their eyes.  Her baby babble turns into her first words, which evolve into childish sentences filled with charming nonsense, and finally into constant questioning as she begins to make sense of the world around her.  Their daughter does turn out to be terrified of storms – an almost idiosyncratic quirk in a generally happy child – and they cannot help but wonder if it is a coincidence.

One thing that Sasha had never anticipated about parenthood was how much she would have to _talk_.  There is often no need for words with Aleksis; he knows her mind as well as his own. But with a child, it is completely different.  At two, Dasha is relentlessly curious and highly sensitive to her parents’ moods, especially her mother’s. Between simplified explanations of everyday phenomena like rainbows, cars, and elevators, and the praise or admonition she bestows by simply telling her daughter how she feels – “Mama is proud of you, malishka” or the tear-inducing “Mama is very disappointed” – Sasha feels as if she talks more than she has in years.

With her mother an orphan and her father’s family deceased, Dasha has no grandparents, but nevertheless she does not lack for people eager to spoil her.  Every day, the Kaidonovskys bring their daughter with them to the Shatterdome, where they’ve set up a simple version of their home nursery within their office, with plentiful radiation shielding.  There, with Misha and Bella sprawled on the floor by her playpen - two furry and attentive guardians - Dasha holds court and receives the adoration of the numerous aunts and uncles who come to see her.  In particular, Mako can’t stay away, visiting the baby almost daily, and Dasha returns the affection by being supremely well-behaved at her and Raleigh’s wedding a few months later.

When Dasha is three, she gains a brother. The second time turns out to be far easier than the first, although Sasha is no less relieved when the ordeal is finally over. Afterwards, she cradles the pink-faced infant as Dasha, now a big sister, is brought into the room.  The little girl squeezes her mother tightly – Sasha winces a little at the protest of her sore body but returns the embrace – and amidst Dasha’s ensuing monologue about how much she’s missed her mama and what she did at Mako-san’s house that day, they are interrupted by the new baby’s indignant wail.

Attention diverted, Sasha starts humming softly and rocking the boy to hush him.  Dasha scowls fiercely at being seemingly forgotten and turns to bury her face in Aleksis’ shirt, her small arms clutching at her father’s neck.  “He’s so _loud,_ ” she complains. 

Aleksis laughs.  “He’s a baby, malishka,” he answers. “You cried too, when you were that small.”

Dasha shakes her head stoutly.  “No,” she insists. “I was _much_ better.  And now I’m three, and I don’t cry at all.”

The last is certainly untrue, but Sasha can’t help but reflect later on how different the experience is this time around. The most important part is the same: Sasha takes one look at the scrunched face of their little boy – naturally honey-haired like herself, and already showing the promise of inheriting Aleksis’ strong features – and falls completely and irrationally in love. But from there, Nikolai – called Kolya – is the polar opposite of his sister as a baby.  He’s so loud and colicky at first that Sasha sometimes wants to cry along with him because she simply doesn’t know what else to do. Many months later he’s turned into a grinning, shrieking toddler with more energy than even Misha had as a puppy. Sasha and Aleksis joke in public that Kolya is why they’ve decided to stop at two children, because with him they certainly could not handle another. In reality, the combination of their situation and their age has made any more a virtual impossibility.

But now, surrounded by her family, Sasha cannot feel like anything but the luckiest woman in the world.  She looks at Aleksis and he’s watching her.  There’s a world of love in his eyes, and she knows that he is thinking the same.

 

In life there are sunsets of many kinds, and nearly all of them are bittersweet.  This one is no exception.  It is Herc’s retirement as Marshal, and everyone gathers at the Kaidonovsky home to give him a warm sendoff.  When Aleksis and Sasha had discovered that Kolya was on the way, they had decided that they needed more space - mostly because Sasha hadn’t had the heart to sacrifice Aleksis’ beloved library for another bedroom.  So they’d finally moved from their first apartment into a spacious four-bedroom condo – perfect for their family, and for the friends that gather there now.

With young children in attendance, the celebration has the noisy and chaotic feel of a family reunion.  Raleigh and Mako have brought their first child, a dark-haired son who is on the verge of crawling.  As Mako arranges platters of artfully crafted foods in the kitchen, Raleigh watches over the boy. He’s been named as Herc’s successor, but here he is merely an adoring father, having long since shed the awkwardness he’d once exhibited around the topic of children. Sasha can see the amused affection in his eyes as the energetic infant scoots around on the carpet towards a stuffed animal lying a few tantalizing feet away.  “He’s going to be a handful when he begins crawling,” Raleigh mutters to Sasha, who nods in understanding. 

“Get a herding dog,” she advises.  Indeed, Bella often has her hands full these days managing both Dasha and Kolya, the latter of whom is only a couple months older than the Becket boy, but who has mastered crawling.  Even now, Bella lies on the edge of the carpet, keeping close watch on the squirming infant and blocking the door with her long body. Misha tends to simply follow the children around, an eager playmate but a somewhat ineffective babysitter.

Sasha’s children are with their father, who is greeting Jin at the door.  Dasha is giggling as she helps unload the smaller boxes from her Uncle Jin’s lap. As usual Jin’s arrived bearing tacky decorations and strange presents: white cardboard doggy bones to hang from the ceiling (“I thought we were celebrating Herc, not Max,” Mako comments later, confused), Striker Eureka action figures (claimed immediately by Dasha), jars of Vegemite (Sasha shudders), and dog treats.  There’s a softer voice and it’s Anna, standing behind Jin’s wheelchair. 

The courtship between them has moved unbelievably slowly by Sasha’s standards, as if each is a little afraid of the precious thing they now hold between them, and is afraid to shatter it by moving forward.  Jin has confessed to Sasha once the strangeness of going from being one of a trinity to one of a pair. It has not been easy on Anna either; there had been considerable backlash not so much due to her age, but simply because her family had been scavengers.  A shy girl unused to public scrutiny, she’d been hurt by the numerous editorials decrying the relationship, talking about how wrong it was that China’s sole surviving hero was now attached to a woman whose kin had profited from selling the bones and organs of the very monsters that had maimed him.  The winner of Jin’s old dating show had even released a rather catty video giving her opinion about it – a video which had immediately gone viral.

“That dating show might have been the worst decision I’ve ever made,” Jin admits.

But all things passed with time – except their continuing attachment to each other, and with the support of others they had endured.  Now Anna grins up at Aleksis and bends down to return Dasha’s enthusiastic hug. When she sees Sasha her face lights up, and with a soft word to Jin she comes forward to join Sasha in the living room, asking how she can help with the preparations. The young woman has come a long way from the wide-eyed, pig-tailed teen that Sasha had met that day; she’s petite and composed, with an inner grace that reminds Sasha of Mako – but unhampered by the same depth of personal loss.  Anna had grown up collecting stuffed kaiju toys and idolizing the pilots at the heart of the Jaegers which had shaped the landscape of her childhood. But the gritty reality of her family’s work has inured her to hardship, and has given her a steely thread of strength and a core of integrity. Jin’s disability gives her no pause whatsoever.

Jin couldn’t have chosen much better, Sasha thinks. 

There is a familiar ruckus coming from the hallway and Misha suddenly darts forward, plowing past them.  Bella circles and whines, torn between following and staying beside her charge. Raleigh takes pity on her, lifting his son into his lap, and the shepherd pants in gratitude before leaving to join the others. Moments later the two dogs return with Max, who is wheezing a little, but who nevertheless greets everyone in the room energetically.

Sasha waves to Herc as he comes in, laughing at the cardboard bones hanging from the ceiling.  He’s a little thinner now, a little grayer – but she likes to think that perhaps the kinship of their little group has brought some contentment back into the old Marshal’s life. It’s an early retirement by normal standards, and Herc is nothing but normal, but neither is the strain upon his health – mental and physical – from dozens of years of Jaeger piloting and then in leadership of the revitalized PPDC.  Under his leadership, it’s grown and flourished beyond anything they could have imagined.  Marshal Pentecost would have been proud.

There are speeches and toasts – most of them greeted with laughter and a few with fond sighs – and there is food and drink and gossip, as always.  The laughs and shrieks and occasional cries of the children are heard amongst the din, until it is time for them to go to bed.  Amidst half-hearted protests that she isn’t sleepy at all – punctuated by some telling yawns – Dasha is tucked into bed and kissed by her mother and father.  Kolya has long since dozed off, and already lies in his crib, dreaming peacefully.

Herc waits for Sasha and Aleksis to emerge from Dasha’s room, greeting them with a smile. “It’s nice when they’re little. They think you’re everything.” His eyes close momentarily as he calls upon some memory. Max nudges his head against Herc’s knee and the old Ranger bends down slowly to stroke the bulldog’s ears. “And then one day, you turn around and that little kid’s looking at you like you’re a person, not just a parent. And then you look at yourself, and you realize that while they’ve grown up, you’ve grown old.”

Not long ago, in a world filled with monsters, growing old had seemed like a privilege – one that would be barred from Sasha and her husband, and perhaps all the world.  Nowadays it is a slow and dawning reality for them all.  She knows that she should be grateful whether they have six years or sixty, but with luck she and Aleksis would have the joy of spending their lives together with their family.  But Herc has been alone, having been held up by the pillar of his duty, and now it is their turn to keep him standing tall as he moves onward. Even Max is slowing down a little these days, and there’s the sad inevitability that it won’t be long before this last link to Herc’s lost son’s life is gone.  So in the days and years that pass, Sasha lets Herc spend as much time with her children as he wants, and the ex-Marshal turns out – by his own words – to be a better uncle than he’d ever been a father. 

It’s not the same, but it’s better than nothing. And it makes a difference.

 

For Dasha, hers is a childhood full of stories. 

From the first weeks of her life, before she can even understand words, her father sits with her – a tiny bundle nestled in his large arms – and together they peruse the numerous picture books collected upon the shelves of their home library.  At that age she knows nothing but the unique and familiar rumble of his voice.  Later she learns that there is magic in the pages. Her favorite story is Gulliver’s Travels; each night she goes to sleep laughing at the images her father paints for her, of tiny men, giants, and talking horses.

As she grows from toddlerhood to childhood she becomes aware of a different kind of story, one that permeates her life.  Whether it’s from the grizzled old engineers in the Shatterdome or from the articles in magazines, she discovers that her parents are _heroes_.  In fact she finds herself surrounded by legends – her uncles and aunts, too, are part of a narrative that seems larger than life – but she’s always most enthralled by the images that she sees of the Lieutenants Kaidonovsky, looking fierce and untouchable in their shining drivesuits, piloting the colossal Cherno Alpha and battling monsters in the sea. Soon, with the ease of childish appropriation, they become her idols as well - even more so than they already are.  Under their bemused watch, Dasha fights imaginary monsters in the yard.  When Kolya is big enough to play, she declares that he must be the kaiju, always; her brother sometimes protests the unfairness of it all, but the truth is he makes a terrible Cherno Alpha because Dasha is bigger – at least for now.

She grows older still, and discovers the darker side to their story.  Beneath her Papa’s beard is an uneven pattern of scars; her Mama sports similar marks on her chin, although they have faded with time.  There’s a matching pattern of uneven marks down the sides of each their shoulders, and one of her father’s legs is covered in strange, gnarled, mottled flesh. 

There are manifold scars beyond just the physical ones. A fire alarm sounds and Papa freezes, before a whispered word from Mama has him sagging in remembered relief. On vacation they take Dasha to an Atlantic beach to play but refuse to let her swim in the water, much to her frustration. One day a strange man appears from a van and approaches Dasha and Kolya in their schoolyard, trying to coax them away with candy and promises. At that time Kolya is a trusting and vivacious five-year-old; he cries when Dasha won’t let him go. Dasha instead grabs his hand and runs as fast as she can, and the next thing she knows there’s a Chinese man that appears out of nowhere to tackle the intruder.  When the job is done he winks at her, and she relaxes because he’s one of Uncle Jin’s friends, but the reaction of her parents later is one that she won’t ever forget. She’s never _ever_ seen Mama look so scared and angry before.

Finally, when she is old enough, she goes to Russia.  She visits the monuments and museums, and then she turns her back on these things to retrace the footsteps that her parents have walked. There’s an alleyway where her Mama might have hidden as a girl; there’s an old farmhouse to which her Papa might have stolen away at night with a lamp and book. In Alaska the old Jaeger Academy grounds have long since been appropriated for industrial use, but after the closing of the Breach the company had restored a portion, hoping to draw tourists.  Amongst a rowdy crowd of schoolchildren in hats and parkas, Dasha stands in the Kwoon where her parents once brawled, eats in the mess hall where they’d once dined, and wonders what it was like for them to fall in love here.

There’s a story beyond all of this: the story of Aleksandra and Aleksis, two lonely individuals chosen to bear the weight of a planet under siege, and drawn to each other in a world where hope dimmed with every passing day.  And when she comes home to them, her brave Mama and her Papa Mountain, she’s clutching pages full of notes, and her mind is full of questions. They laugh together over dinner and they give her their answers – and their blessing to finally tell that story.

One day, she will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In mere moments of mostly silent screen time, the Kaidonovskys completely captured my heart. It was clear that this was a couple with a compelling story to tell, and it was so difficult to accept that they would be denied a future together, and so 'To Live' was written.
> 
> Mia (tumblr: explodinghye) composed an incredible work of art in celebration of this story. It can be admired here: http://tinyurl.com/lm8b5dk. Thank you so much!!! (See more of her amazing work at: http://www.redbubble.com/people/mnmstudios/)
> 
> Thank you to Travis Beacham and Guillermo del Toro for envisioning such a rich world and such unforgettable characters. Thank you to Heather Doerksen and Robert Maillet for bringing the Kaidonovskys to life - and for being so kind and responsive to your many fans.
> 
> Most of all, thank you for all those who have read and followed and reviewed this story. This is the first multi-chapter work I've ever finished, and all your support has been crucial in ensuring that I saw this through. I treasure each and every one of you - you mean more to me than you'll ever know.
> 
> Love,  
> jambajunkie


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